A Bloody Awakening
by Kore Anesidora
Summary: The earth shudders at the footfalls of an awakened Shizuru Viola and the unfortunate Natsuki is caught in a web of age-old conspiracies. But gods stir in the flesh of mortal men once more and nothing is as it seems. ShizNat.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: MaiHiIME is not mine. "Scilicet is superis labor est, ea cura quietos sollicitat." In other words, there are so many of these fanfics, I doubt Sunrise is really going to come after me with pitchforks.**

**Enjoy!**

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Drip.

Water slowly slipped from a great rent in the cavernous stone ceiling.

Drip.

Voices grew stronger from on the other side of an enormous door, heavily carved with horrific scenes, banded in pitted iron.

Drip.

The heavy doors squealed open at insistent prying and pushing until, with a resounding crash, three men stumbled into the large chamber. Straightening, they gazed about the room. Torches still lined the walls, though they had long since ceased bearing light. Darkness clung to thick, squat pillars, Romanesque in style. The vaulting above soared with hints of Gothic architecture, but the shadows lingering there dragged it downward until it loomed menacingly over their heads. One of the men craned his neck and whistled, admiring the sight.

"How long you think it's been since someone was in here, Doc?" he asked, directing the feeble rays of his flashlight around the ceiling.

"I imagine a good six or seven centuries. Thereabouts," another answered. While the other two were broad-shouldered and tanned from years of labour and exposure to the elements, this man was tall and slender with long fingers usually smudged with ink, and rimless glasses perched upon his aquiline nose, framing a thin, pale face. Chalk still adorned his sleeves. His academic occupation was readily apparent.

The other workman grinned at his counterpart, "Should be some good loots then, eh Davey?"

Davey grinned identically back, "Oh, aye. There'd better be, Alex. There'd better be."

At this they both eyed the doctor who, inspecting the ruins, seemed oblivious to the danger lurking directly behind him, "The grave should be here somewhere..." he muttered to himself.

They continued through the room, flanked by pillars and shadow. Statues of saints lined every niche, their blank eyes following the intruders in their course through the sepulchre. The last room in a hidden mausoleum, this chamber was suspended deep underground, surrounded by many other winding hallways designed to ensnare and trap people such as these in their hollow depths so that the secret they guarded would remain undetected. Years of research and exploration had accumulated and resulted in this moment. The doctor could feel the hope rising within him, and he stifled it only so that the disappointed might not be so great were this yet another dead end. For the two ruffians, this was merely another bust and they expected to be paid regardless of their findings.

A large stone tomb rose from the ground at the end of the room, twin angels of wrath and ruin were poised on either side as though to strike what was contained within, as though was contained within could clamber out at any moment. If the grave robbers had not been blinded by avarice, they would have detected a chilling finger run down their spines, making the hairs on the backs of their necks and arms bristle. Atop the sarcophagus was the carving of a woman, sleeping, as was the custom of the Medieval Ages when burying kings and queens or other forms of royalty. Upon closer inspection, her ageless face was stretched in a fanged snarl and her hands twisted at a stake lodged in her breast. An inscription ran all along the outer edge.

_"Hic resquiat ater draco, natus taedibus cruentibus. Numquam adsurgat..." _the doctor read aloud slowly.

"What the hell does that mean?" Davey asked, leathery brow furrowed.

Excitement lowering his voice to a reverent whisper, the doctor replied, "Here lies the black dragon, born of bloody torches. May it never rise."

"Well, that's just lovely," grunted Alex, spitting over his shoulder, "Let's crack this thing open."

The doctor stood back and watched as the two stuck crowbars in the small space beneath the lid and heaved. Faces screwed up, they pushed and wedged all along the rim until, at last, they lifted the weighty top and carefully deposited it beside the tomb. Within was a black lacquered casket, richly decorated in gold. An embossed aureate coat of arms adorned its front, bearing three horizontal teeth lying parallel to one another circled by a dragon biting its own tail: the seal of Violàsz of Ecsed. (1)

Hands trembling, the doctor unclasped the sides of the casket, its golden locks snapping open as though they had been forged last week instead of last millennium. The lid lifted easily on soundless hinges and they stared down at its contents with baited breath. A woman lay inside, completely bare but for a white silk shift. Inside, the casket was lined with creamy velvet and crushed chiffon.

"Beautiful," the doctor breathed.

Alex scowled, 'Ain't she supposed to be, you know...falling apart?"

"Decomposing?" Davey supplied.

"Yea. That."

"You've never heard of the Legend of Šizsur Violàsz?" the doctor smiled at their blank expressions, "Countess of Hungary, she was called _The Blood Countess_, and was the beginning of the modern vampire myths," his smile turned to the smooth, ageless visage lying in silent repose beneath them, "It is no legend, gentlemen."

"Woah, woah. I didn't sign up for this shit!" Alex backed up, hand reaching for the gun at his hip.

"Relax, Alex," Davey laughed, "It ain't real. The Doc's just pulling your leg. Right, Doc?"

The last words turned to churning gurgles as the doctor calmly reached out and slit Davey's throat with an ornate silver dagger. Holding the man over the casket so that his fluids ran all along the woman within, the doctor replied, "Oh, I can assure you, it is quite real."

With a strangled cry, Alex fumbled for his weapon and fired, but the doctor moved the draining body as a shield. Shaking, Alex pulled the trigger until empty clicks filled the damp air around them.

Drip.

"All my life, I have been waiting for this moment," The doctor's eyes were wide and held a maniacal gleam.

Drip.

He tossed David's corpse aside and strode forward. Still frozen in place, staring at where his friend had fallen, Alex did not react until the doctor had grasped his arm and began dragging him forward. Yelling and struggling, he could not escape the iron clasp of the tall doctor's clenched fist, "No! Please! NOO-!" His shrieks were silenced by the same blade that had dispatched his friend and for several long minutes nothing could be heard but the wet slosh of hot blood upon silk and skin.

Drip.

Latin, spoken in a low chant, rumbled form the remaining man as he knelt before the grave as though before an altar, spattered and smeared with unholy libations. The earth gave a great groan and gnashed its bouldered teeth, straining at its eternal chains in response to the rebirth of this timeless evil. As the last phrases faded away, the ground stilled once more. A bloodied arm reached from within the casket and slowly lifted its owner from her resting place. Dark, auric hair, slick and matted with blood, clung to marble cheeks stained with rivulets of red. Delicate nostrils flared, breathing in the scents of the living for the first time in centuries, and a tongue darted out to taste the offerings running over her lips.

_"Countess,"_ the doctor began in Latin.

She interrupted him, voice husky and dry from disuse, though still strong and sure, _"What year is this?"_

_"The Year of Our Lord 2011,"_ he dared to raise his head slightly in order to drink in the sight of her, miraculous to behold, this dark mistress.

At last, those eyes opened. A gaze the colour of blood, deep as wine-dark waters, turned upon him, still prostrated before her, _"I have slumbered long, it seems,"_ she mused, _"Tell me, why did you wake me?"_

_"Countess?"_

_"For what purpose did you think it fit to raise the devil from her sleep?" _Her words were cold and her gaze merciless.  
_"O-only to serve you in all your glory,"_ he stammered, lowering his head once more.

_"Lies."_

He flinched at the hiss and was going to defend himself, inform her of his unerring loyalty, when he was suddenly lifted from his place upon the floor.

_"Groveling suits you," _she sneered, now standing, holding him aloft, though she had made no move that mortal senses could detect. Her grip upon his throat tightened and he gasped for air, weakly beating at her strong arms, _"You are not worthy to be my subject."_  
Fangs flashing through the gloom and shadows, she latched onto the throbbing artery at the base of his neck until he moved no more. Flinging him aside like a rag-doll, Šizsur Violàsz glided forward, bare feet unsullied by the damp stone beneath them, and ascended to the world above once more.

Drip.

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**(1) : I'm basing this loosely off of Bathory of Ecsed, linking our dear Shizuru to an actual Countess by the name of Erzsebet Bathory of Hungary. Although Erzsi was living in the 16th century, I'm dating Shizuru to the 13th and 14th in order to follow the rise of the Ottoman Empire and the consequent wars in the Balkans which Shizuru will have played a role in when she was still "living".**


	2. Chapter 2

**Please forgive me for my short chapters. I find that this way updates are quicker and I don't feel so overwhelmed when writing little snippets.**

**Disclaimer: Yaddah yaddah yaddah. Not mine. Sunrise. Ok Let's go!**

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Sighing, Natsuki Kruger descended into the lower basement of the museum. The British Museum was, by no means, an awful place to work, in fact it paid fairly well, but she was always being stiffed by those above her, it seemed. In particular by the head of the Medieval Department, who didn't seem to like her much, for some reason. Perhaps it had something to do with Natsuki's unwillingness to bend her head, bow and scrape, and conform to the norms of the social hierarchy. She had never been very good at such things. As a scholarship student at University College London (UCL, for short), majoring in Medieval Studies and weaponry-her favourite had to be the early development of ballistics in France, nothing could quite compare to the trebuchet-this job at the museum was perfect. It looked good on a resume, it mirrored her studies, and she got to handle all the historical artifacts she desired. As long as she wore special cloth gloves and kissed ass, that is. The former she was more than willing to do. The latter, not so much.

Now, she had been ordered, that's right, _ordered_ to retrieve some odd-end or another in the very bowels of the museum itself where original material from the Bronze Age was sure to be still undiscovered, lurking in rat-infested corners.

Natsuki hated rats. Nasty little buggers, them. Fleas, bubonic plague, not to mention sharp teeth and in large cities such as London they could grow to immense proportions. Lovecraft would be happy to count them amongst his Chthulu mythos.

Reaching out a hand and feeling along the plastered wall for a switch, she flicked it upwards. Nothing happened.

"Fan-fuckin'-tastic," Natsuki grumbled, retrieving her small personal flashlight from her back pocket and twisting one end to activate it. Critters shrank away from the new source of light, "This is just my day, isn't it?"

She picked her way through the painfully archived racks of Graecian pithoi and...Wait. Pithoi? What was this, the Classical wing? Maybe she took a wrong turn...

Clunk.

Frowning down at her shoes, which had just resounded in a most hollow and wooden manner quite unlike the rest of the stone floor, Natsuki took a step back. A small trap door, barely large enough for a grown man to squeeze through, lay there, thick with grey dust. How long had it been since somebody came down here? Years, she guessed. Pottery such as this wasn't worth much more than the cataloguing, preservation and storage they needed. Walk along any coast or field in Greece or Turkey and one is sure to find shards of pottery littering the countryside. The handle of the trap door, however, which was a black iron ring, bore signs of recent use. Were those finger marks upon it? Natsuki knelt down and tugged at the door to no avail. Propping the flashlight between her teeth so that its light shone at her feet, she used both hands to wrench it open. Moaning reluctantly, the iron hinges screeched open.

"A-ha!" she boasted triumphantly to the inanimate object before juggling for the flashlight which fell from her mouth, "Shit!"

Far below it clattered to a halt, shining dully upon a stone pathway. Squinting, Natsuki swore again and, with yet another sigh and much be-grumbling of her ill-fated day, she cautiously made her way down the steep steps. In some places they were eroded and most of the last step was completely gone. With a small jump, Natsuki landed and retrieved her flashlight. Water dripped all around and her eyes scanned the area.

It looked as though it were a sewer, since the middle had been dug up in a draining trench, but instead of a grate at the end of the narrow hall there stood a sturdy, squat door.

"Huh," she peered at it, curious, "Well, that's odd. Wonder if Tomoe'll tell me anything about it."

She seriously doubted it. Her cantankerous overlord made it a general rule to not tell Natsuki anything she didn't need to know.  
Shrugging, she turned. This place probably ended in dirt floors and low ceilings that forced explorers to crouch in a most uncomfortable position. She really had no desire to earn a few days of a bad back. Unlike some university students, Natsuki enjoyed her sleep and didn't want it compromised. No sooner had she placed a foot upon the next step up than the door behind her creaked open. A shiver ran its icy course down her back and she slowly turned around once more. Emerald eyes widened and the flashlight slipped from her fingers.

A woman stood, chin tilted proudly, in the doorway, white body framed by the impregnable darkness beyond. Long, dark golden hair tangled down her back and across her shoulders and her entire form was, quite literally, drenched in blood. Blood that had dried and begun to flake off in thick black crusts. That gaze, even from a distance, pierced through Natsuki, rendering her momentarily speechless.

"J-Jesus!" Natsuki finally exclaimed, rushing forward before she even knew what she was doing, "What the hell happened to you? Are you alright?"

The woman cocked her head, a small contemplative frown marring that otherwise impeccable brow, impeccable but for the caked creases of blood all across its surface, _"Salve, amica,"_ she inclined her head in a slight bow, acting as though nothing were out of sorts, _"Quis es? Atque quid locus est?"_

"What-?" shaking her head, Natsuki dismissed any interrogation she would have wished to delve into. Now was not the time for that, "Nevermind. Uh...Shit. Let's go. I need to get you to a hospital. Are you hurt? Injured?"

The woman's frown deepened, _"Injured?" _she mimicked Natsuki, her accent pleasantly lilting, _"Ah! Iniuria? Non iniuria mihi est."_

"No?" Natsuki repeated, "Non in-what did you call it? In-yer-ia? Non in-yer-ia?"

The woman seemed amused at Natuski's pronunciation, or perhaps she was simply amused at the prospect of actually being harmed, _"Non iniuria est,"_ She repeated for Natsuki's sake.

She sighed in relief, the breath rushing from her, "Thank God!" she smiled, "You really gave me a fright! What's all this, then? Fake? Are you pulling a prank on someone?" Natsuki couldn't imagine Tomoe setting this up. She didn't know if Tomoe even had a sense of humour for that matter.

When she reached out to touch the other women, she saw her stiffen and her expression became cold, _"Noli tangere."_

Natsuki blinked at the gelid tone and imperious glower. She may not have been able to understand her language, but she knew what that frigid, distant look meant, "Alright, alright," slowly retracting her hand, she instead shrugged off her coat and handed it to the other woman, "Here. Take this, at least. It's cold, and you're wearing next to nothing." At that last part, she gestured to the other's sheer shift.

An elegant brow arched at the outstretched clothing.

"It's just a coat. C-O-A-T. Coat," Natuski shook it.

After a long inspection, the woman took it with a murmured, _"Gratias tibi ago."_

"Yea, don't mention it." _Gratias_ sounded enough like Spanish for Natsuki to understand.

After some confused fiddling with the zipper, a growl escaped her.

"Here, let me-"

A snarl was directed at Natsuki's proffered aid, making her freeze. Natsuki wasn't aware that humans could make such noises. It had sounded more like a wolf or a lion than a person. Scowling suddenly, Natsuki did something that was, perhaps, very foolish, but how was she to know any better? The stranger's reluctance to let her help irritated her, and she was more often ruled by her short-tempered disposition than not.

"Don't be ridiculous!" she snapped, slapping away the woman's fumbling hands. Quickly, she fitted the zipper into place and tugged it up to the stranger's chin. She didn't know who was more stunned: herself, who had just chastened a woman she didn't know and who spoke a language she had never heard, or the woman herself. They stared at one another, the silence between them growing more pregnant with every passing second. From afar, Natsuki had not been able to discern the colour of the woman's eyes, but now they seared into her own. A deep wine-red, they seemed to glow scarlet in the dimness, burning and crackling with the intensity of crimson thunder. For reasons unknown to herself, Natsuki could feel a blush creep into her cheeks. Clearing her throat, she removed her hands and looked away, "Uh...what's your name? Name? No? You don't understand? Hmm..." She tapped her chest and said, clearly, "Natsuki Kruger."

The woman nodded once, comprehending, _"Na-tsu-ki Ku-ru-ger."_ For some reason, that purring voice, scratchy as though from thirst or years of smoking, made her blush deepen. The woman noticed. Her eyes glinted. Was that mischief dwelling there? _"Šizsur Violàsz."_

"Shizuru? Shizuru Violas? No? Viola? Yes? Viola it is, then." The name felt strange on her tongue, but not in a bad way. Shizuru inclined her head in another graceful nod, "Well then, Shizuru, let's get you out of here. I'll take you wherever you need to go," she paused and added as an afterthought, "Well...as long as it's in London, anyway. I imagine that corn-syrup is difficult to get out of hair. You look like you could use a bath," Natsuki turned and started back toward the stairs, "A long one, at that."


	3. Chapter 3

**Damn you all. I should be writing papers right now, very long, LONG papers, mind you, but instead I'm here. Posting more nonsense. Because you reviewed and apparently liked it.**

**It's all your fault. I hope you're feeling pleased with yourselves.**

**Disclaimer: MaiHIME is not mine.**

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Shizuru studied the young woman striding in front of her, leading her so willingly from her entrapment. Straight, blue-black hair fell onto her shoulders and her body whispered of delectable youth. Even had the scent of this Natsuki not suffused the garment now around her, Shizuru would have been able to smell her. Sweet, yet with a bold, rebellious streak. Fresh and untamed. Wild. Like the smell of damp earth after the rain, mountains lined with trees and shrouded in mist. She mused on the topic as she followed, lips twisting in a wry smile, though she was careful not to reveal her teeth. Her hand drifted up to the apparatus at her neck that Natuski had manipulated with such ease. The audacity of the girl! Shizuru couldn't remember the last time something like that had occurred and it made her pause. The girl was daring, to be sure.

She rather like daring.

Not to mention that blush! _Puella erubescet venustius!_ Not a day out of her grave and already such a sensational creature had been presented to her! My, my, what a sense of humour Fate had!

She would make a fine meal indeed.

But why rush the matter? Best to prolong the hunt. Shizuru wasn't particularly famished, in fact she rarely ever thirsted even after all those years in captivity, but the sheer want, the need to taste...It drove her mad. At first she had despised herself for what she had become, what she had in truth inflicted upon herself, but after centuries of exposure she had learned to accept her dark nature. Even to embrace it.

Light assaulted her eyes. Bright white light flooding the room the had just entered. With a soft hiss of surprise and pain, Shizuru shielded her eyes with her palm. She heard Natsuki say something in her own language (Shizuru couldn't make head or tail of it; it seemed comprised mainly of Latin yet utilized Teutonic form and construction, occasionally throwing in a stray word from French and Greek; what a barbaric and plund'rous sounding tongue!) and she felt something warm and soft upon her shoulder. Peeking through her fingers, Shizuru's eyes quickly adjusted and she saw Natsuki standing before her, hand upon her shoulder, face bearing an expression of concern.

How endearing.

Allowing the hand to remain attached to its owner, Shizuru nodded at Natsuki's next query, "No injury," she stated clearly, and they continued on. The girl chatted incessantly as they wove their way through another room brimming with light, metallic boxes with circular locks upon them, low wooden benches slung with the occasional article of clothing, and Shizuru wondered if her speaking was just a pesky proclivity. Based upon the soothing tone, she imagined Natsuki was merely trying to make her feel at ease in what was obviously a new environment. Scarlet eyes carefully observed everything around them. She absorbed the letters written in signs across walls, the words flowing from her companion's pretty little mouth, the sounds of people from a door in the far corner, the smell of a city from another. So she was in a city. A large one, if she was correct. One with a sizable river running through it. In Europe, she imagined, if Natsuki's language and physical appearance were any indicator. Germany, perchance? Somewhere along the Danube was her guess.

One of the doors sprang open with a slam and Natsuki muttered something under her breath. Shizuru turned her gaze upon the woman who had just entered and arched an incredulous brow. Was her hair...beryl? It looked as though it belonged set in a piece of gaudy jewelry. Not to mention the sever cut of it. What strange traditions the present practiced!

The woman immediately began heckling Natsuki, who grumbled a sullen excuse. Shizuru watched their exchange. Words that she had heard just earlier rang out and she grasped some of what they were saying. Fragments of the language began to piece themselves together in her mind. This newcomer was obviously not keen on her companion and Shizuru disliked her almost at once.

The woman yelped suddenly, pointed at Shizuru with wide eyes and shouting something. Natsuki endeavored to explain, waving her hands defensively before her, but at this Shizuru stepped forward, "Excuze me," they fell silent, "Eez fake," she touched the blood on her cheeks, "Natsuki, she...give to me," she gestured to the black clothing around her, "Coat. Natsuki give coat. Now we go. Use bath." she made a face at the blood in her hair, "Corn see-rup...difficult to get from hair."

Taken aback, the woman frowned, studying her intently. Shizuru felt her hackles rise when their eyes met, _"Insolent whelp, do not meet my gaze as though you are my equal," _Shizuru said calmly in Latin.

At this, the woman scowled, _" 'Insolent whelp?' Is that Latin?"_

"_Indeed. I am amazed you recognized it. You people blatantly have no regard for the finer arts if you have allowed it to flounder in so dismal a manner,"_ Shizuru reprimanded acridly, though she knew the newcomer could not fully comprehend. Her command of the language was obviously rudimentary and her accent horrendous and harsh.

Confused, the woman apparently did not wish to engage in conversation any longer and, convinced, she decided to barked something at Natsuki, shake her finger and stomp away. Natsuki herself gaped at Shizuru, who blinked innocently and asked in Latin, _"What?"_

"Don't you _'quid'_, me!" Natsuki exclaimed, "What the hell was that? You speak English?"

Shizuru shrugged, nonchalant, "No. I listen. Need..." she trailed off, thinking, _"Books,"_ she said in Latin, exasperated, making a motion with her hands of opening a tome.

Scratching her dark head, it finally dawned upon Natuski, "Oh! Book! Sure! We'll stop by the library."

"Book," she repeated, "Yes. I need book," Pausing for a moment she muttered to herself, _"English? Are we in Britannia?"_ Back when she had been, well, "living" wasn't really the right word, but before England had not been much more than a scrubby island-kingdom to the West with whom she had had little to no contact.

"Eh? Britannia...? Britain! Yes!" Natsuki blessed her with a full smile, "We're in Great Britain."

"_Great_ Britain?" Shizuru said incredulously, emphasizing the word 'Great'. _Surely not,_ she thought.

"Damn straight!" Natsuki retorted proudly, "What other languages do you speak?"

She merely cocked her head in response.

"_Parlez-vous Francais?"_ Natsuki asked tentatively; her primary-school French was infamously terrible.

Shizuru's face lit up and she fired back an antiquated form of rapid French.

Stunned, Natsuki merely shook her head, "Stop. Stop. Jesus..." She breathed out and asked, "Well then, where am I taking you? Where do you live?"

Shizuru lifted her hands in the universal sign for having nothing. Inwardly, she was smiling in chilling anticipation. Perhaps she could get this fine creature to invite her to her home and there Shizuru could take the time to savour her. She fought to urge to lick her lips. Those men in the tomb had been a poor repast and she longed for something more...luscious.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Natsuki muttered. After a moment's thought, she burst out, throwing her hands up, "Fine! You can stay with me. But only for a bath!" Green eyes narrowed in a glare.

Looking not the least bit admonished, Shizuru gazed up at her, doe-like.

"Don't look at me like that."

Shizuru batted her lashes for added effect.

"Alright! You can stay the night!"

Beaming, Shizuru followed Natsuki out into the cool night air. Tonight, she would celebrate her awakening with that which she had come to love most: red ribbons that streamed from succulent flesh in moist arks and filled her to the quivering brim with unholy ecstasy.

"You wanted to see me?"

Tomoe slipped into the Head Curator's round office. It was fashionably decorated with an Anatolian silk rug hanging on the far wall framed by oil-paintings by Raphael and Caravaggio. Swiveling around in her high-backed roller chair, Midori smiled brightly, "Yes! Come in! Come in!"

She motioned for Tomoe to take a seat, but the head of the Medieval department remained standing, "I was just wondering how our little recruit was doing? Have you shown her the ropes? I want her feel comfortable here."

"Who, Kruger?"

"Of course."

Tomoe's look turned bitter, "I was meaning to talk to you about her. I don't think she's fit for the job."

"Oh, nonsense!" Midori busied her hands by retying her hair, mumbling around the elastic band she held in her mouth as she did so, "She's perfect for the job!"

"I honestly don't know what you see in her," Tomoe growled, "And she was with a strange woman today..."

Midori giggled and eyed her, sly, "Jealous?"

Tomoe purpled. She choked and looked as though she were going to have an apoplectic fit, "Absolutely not!" She finally managed to splutter.

Tossing her full auburn hair over her shoulder, Midori said, "You can tell me, Tomoe," she wheedled, "I can keep a secret."

A growl of anger escaped the other woman.

Laughing, Midori kicked back and propped her feet rather gracelessly upon her expensive mahogany desk, heedless of the paperwork littering its surface, "So, who was this woman?"

"I don't know," she mumbled, bemused, "She was...odd. It looked like she was covered in blood, but she and Kruger insisted it was just fake. Corn-syrup. And she spoke Latin," she spat out the last part as though it left a rancid taste in her mouth. She had hated her required Latin courses in Graduate School.

Midori froze. Her next question was slow, cautious, "What did this woman look like?"

"I don't know. It was hard to tell through all that fake blood," she rubbed her chin, recalling, "Long dark blonde hair? Pale? And the damndest eyes! I think she was wearing contacts."

"Were they red?" Midori's voice was hushed.

Hesitating, Tomoe confirmed, "Y-yes."

Suddenly, Midori had reverted to her careless old self, though her smile seemed strained, "You're right. That is strange. But it's probably nothing. Now," she planted her feet firmly beneath her desk once more, "If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to work."

"Do you want me to tell you if this woman returns?" Tomoe asked, hand on the door.

"I think that would be best."

As soon as the door had closed shut with a quiet click behind her, Midori snatched up the phone on her desk. Fingers flashing over the numbers, she dialed. Three rings and then a male voice answered, "Headquarters."

"Headquarters. This is Artemis. We've got a problem."

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**What was that? Some semblance of plot?**

**Perish the thought.**


	4. Chapter 4

**/sigh**

**Y'alls are wearing me out with your favourable reviews! STOP IT! (No, I'm kidding. I love reviews. Please review! The more you review, the faster I update!)**

**But seriously. I've knocked one 12 pg paper out of the ballpark and I still have 3 more to go...**

**Also, "Indiobotod": Indeed! You are correct! Technically, it should be "Noli me tangere" but Latin can be a very lazy language at times. Often subjects, direct objects and even the verb "to be" is omitted, being understood by the reader. So, yes. You could have "me" in there, but it isn't really necessary.**

**Now for a warning. There is some rather brutal and questionable material in the first portion of this. I veiled it, but it's there if you read in-between the lines. Vampires are not the nicest of creatures in this 'verse. Ergo, be warned. In the future, they will probably be performing similarly execrable acts.**

**Which brings me to another point. If you're in any way upset or otherwise discontented with what I write, that's OK. You can PM me and we'll talk. As long as its civilised, that is. If you act like a toddler throwing a tantrum, I will ignore you. We are all adults here (hopefully...) so please, act like it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own MaiHIME.**

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In the entrance of a dark, dripping alleyway directly across the employee parking lot of the British Museum, two men slouched. Both wore different styles of clothing, but the clothing was all black with identical symbols etched in a royal blue across their backs, chests, forearms, left coat-breast, and in one instance even shoes. They looked bored. Sounds from deeper in the alley were ignored where another was having his way with a young woman, not much more than a girl in truth. Her screams as he simultaneously bit painfully down on her neck and penetrated her were stifled by a large, rough hand. But as two women emerged from the back entrance of the museum, one of the men perked up.

"Oy, Marcus," he rapped the shoulder of the one standing across from him who was gazing up at the perpetually cloud-ridden sky, "Ya see that?"

Marcus looked, "Yea, I do. Any Clan-Marks on the Fang?"

The other shook his platinum blonde head, "Nope. Looks like we got ourselves a Trespasser."

The animalistic grunts and whimpers from within the alley began to escalate.

"The Fang's gettin' on the bike too," Marcus whistled appreciatively, "Ducati? Nice." Shooting a grin at his partner he asked, "What'do ya think, Jason?"

Jason smiled, revealing long canines that dripped over his lower teeth, "I think we need to teach this girlie to respect the rules."

"Hey, Ulysses!" Marcus bellowed over his shoulder, "Finish up, quick-like! We've got us a Trespasser to thrash."

They watched as the motorcycle rounded the corner and roared down the street.

* * *

Keys jangled. A lock clicked and Natuski ushered Shizuru into her cramped city apartment. The woman entered, her fleet feet carrying her over the threshold like royalty despite her bedraggled appearance, holding beneath both arms piles of thick books and gazing around at the modern accoutrements of Natsuki's living space. Shutting the door with her foot and tossing her keys onto the short, worn stool beside the door, she gestured to the scarred, wooden coffee-table between her aged couch and small LCD television, "You can put the books over there."

Shizuru glanced at where she motioned and set the tomes upon its dull surface with a heavy thump. Upon Natsuki waving at her to follow, Shizuru trailed the girl through an adjoining bedchamber and the bathroom linked to it. The entire place was messy, but not extravagantly so. A few dishes were still drying upon a rack in the narrow kitchen; a coffee mug and open book cluttered the tiny night stand; the bed, which was queen-sized and therefore crowded most of the space in her room, was unmade; dark blue pillows scrunched up and light brown down-comforter kicked to the base revealing sky-blue sheets; the mirror in the bathroom bore flecks of toothpaste and the sink hadn't been wiped down in a while, but other than that Natsuki lived a relatively normal life. No mould could be found in her food cupboards or refrigerator, and piles of dirty laundry were nowhere to be seen.

Two knobs twisted beneath Natsuki's hands and hot water jetted into the porcelain tub. At this, Shizuru murmured appreciatively and placed her palms beneath the streaming, frothy liquid. She had been most curious about the Ducati and marveled like a small child when it began to carry them through the streets of London faster than any chariot or carriage, the city glimmering all around them with lights and night-life, and she had laughed in infantile glee, arms wrapped around Natsuki's waist and shouting such things as, _"Mirabile dictu! Vere!"_ which, of course, Natsuki had not understood at all.

"You'll probably want to sponge yourself off before getting in the tub," Natsuki pointed to the sink and handed her a rectangular towel. At Shizuru's questioning stare, she sighed and mimed wiping herself off at the sink. Comprehension dawned and Shizuru approached the sink with curiosity, fiddling with the faucet until she got the temperature she wanted.

Without further ado, she began stripping. Natsuki's eyes grew wide and she whirled around, storming from the shameless woman. Shizuru herself knew exactly why her companion departed with such alacrity, and she giggled, _"Na, ezt jól megcsináltad!"_ (1) as she continued disrobing and started to scrub the blood from her body. Relatively clean, she sat on the rim of the bath while she waited for it to fill, turned off the water and slipped beneath its warm surface with a barely contained moan. For a few long minutes, she simply allowed herself to enjoy the sensation, soaking. Heat suffused her until she positively glowed. It had been many years since she had had such a delightful experience. The bath could have been a bit bigger, though. Her knees stuck up like smooth rocks at sea and grew cold unless she twisted into a less comfortable position.

"Natsuki!" she called, lifting her leg and putting it back down again, "Natsuki!"

"What is it?" the girl grumbled, peeking in from the bedroom but intentionally not looking directly at Shizuru, naked in her bath.

Water sloshed as Shizuru's hand emerged from it and she beckoned the blushing girl forward. Natsuki entered with great reluctance, "Need.." Shizuru paused, searching for the right word, _"Lye,"_ she finally said in Latin, making movements of washing her hair.

Natsuki pointed at a few bottles perched precariously on the slick corner of the tub. Frowning, Shizuru inspected them, pulling and tugging every which way to no avail. Growling impatiently and rolling up her sleeves with no meagre amount of embarrassment, Natsuki reached over and snatched the bottle from her, flipping open the cap with a loud snap and squeezing a copious amount of shampoo into her palm. Rubbing her hands together, she worked the product into a lather and scrubbed at Shizuru's long hair with vigour, trying and failing to not appreciate the slope of the woman's shoulder descending to the supple curves of her hips. A small sound of content escaped the other woman, who slowly closed her scarlet eyes and leaned into Natsuki's touch.

If Natsuki thought her face couldn't have gotten any more red, she was wrong. Dead wrong.

Finished, she gracelessly dunked Shizuru's foamy head beneath the water. The woman came up spluttering. Directing a drenched glare, Shizuru couldn't maintain it when she saw Natsuki's grin. Sniffing dismissively in feigned indifference, she splashed the girl playfully and turned to allow better access to her hair. Unlike most nobles of her day, Shizuru had been, in their eyes, excessively clean in the maintenance of her person. There was little she enjoyed more than a bath.

And tea.

And delicious young women.

After Natsuki had washed her hair a second time, with Shizuru immensely enjoying the feel of gentle fingers combing through her sopping locks, Natsuki stood and shook a towel at her before dropping it on the sink and taking her leave. Inwardly, Shizuru pouted. She had been hoping to get Natsuki to dry her off. Alas, it seemed the girl would need more convincing! Yet...Shizuru's patience was wearing thin and her thirst was mounting as their close proximity continued. Perhaps a voluntary Natsuki wasn't exactly what she wanted after all...

A strange noise issued from the other room, followed by Natsuki's voice. Brow furrowing, bemused, Shizuru wrapped the towel around herself and, trailing wet splotches across the carpet, she strode into the living room. The girl was holding a small metallic device to her ear and talking animatedly to it. Curious, Shizuru observed her as she approached from behind and plucked the apparatus from her.

"Hey!" Natsuki scowled at Shizuru, who was inspecting the mechanism more closely. She started when she heard a voice from it.

"Ahhh..." Shizuru nodded and handed it back to Natsuki, commenting on the technological progress of the world in Latin which earned her a rolling of emerald eyes.

"Sorry about that, Mai," Natsuki spoke into the receiver, "I have a friend over. I'll talk to you later."

Before she had even snapped the gadget shut, Shizuru was already sitting on the couch, absorbed in one of the books, "You're getting my couch wet, you know."

Shizuru ignored her.

A thin, dark brow arched at the speed with which the other woman was flipping through the pages with her thumb, "You're not _seriously_ reading it that fast, are you?"

She tossed the book aside and promptly picked up another. The process repeated until, within just a few minutes, both hefty stacks were finished. Books on language, history, culture, art, politics, sociology, philosophy, even a thick tome on modern technology. Breathing in deeply, Shizuru closed her eyes, nodding. A strand of honey coloured hair clung to her one of her pale cheeks.

"Helloooooooo!" Natsuki waved a hand in front of the other woman's face, accidentally brushing her nose.

That wine-dark gaze opened once more and Shizuru smiled, just a slight stretch of her full lips, "Where I am from, that would be considered rude."

Natsuki's jaw dropped.

"I don't suppose you have any spare clothes for me?" she asked, blood-red eyes sparkling with mischief, her words slightly accented, just a pleasant lilting of her voice, "I should like to get out of this towel."

"Jesus..." Natsuki breathed.

"Oh I can assure you," Shizuru retorted playfully, fighting to keep the humour from her voice, "Our dear Lord God has absolutely _nothing_ to do with it."

Standing, she walked into the bedroom, Natsuki following close behind, "This is where you would customarily keep your wardrobe, yes?"

Silence.

"Really, Natsuki, you look like a trout."

Natsuki's mouth snapped shut with an audible click. Shaking her head and muttering to herself, she went to her closet and pulled out some jeans, a t-shirt and a sweater along with underclothes, "Here."

Shizuru flipped her hair over her shoulder, chin raised, "Dress me."

Natsuki shot her an incredulous look at the haughty command, "Excuse me? You can't dress yourself?"

"I _do_ _not_ dress myself," Shizuru corrected, arms held out expectantly, "It would be unseemly."

"Unseemly, my ass!" Natsuki countered, tossing the clothes at the other woman, who did nothing to catch them and consequently the pants fell to the floor and a shirt hung pendulously on one of her outstretched arm, "I'm not going to do that!" She blushed furiously at the thought.

Shizuru grinned, "Oh?" Dropping her arms, she crossed the room to stand before her, enjoying the sight of the colour deepening in Natsuki's cheeks, "Are you embarrassed at the sight of flesh?"

Incoherent grumbling ensued.

Shizuru pouted, "Or perhaps it's simply _my_ flesh that you abhor."

"I didn't say that!" Natsuki burst out, then silently berated herself as Shizuru's expression became teasing once again.

_"Girl-who-blushes,"_ she said fondly in Latin, "That's what I think Ill call you, _puella_."

"What's that mean?"

"Oh nothing!" She cast a heated stare over her bare shoulder as she returned to the clothes and picked them up off the floor, _"Egyem meg a szivedet."_ (2)

"Answering me in yet another language really doesn't help," Natsuki mumbled. Seeing that Shizuru was going to get herself dressed, she turned to leave the room. Before she could even reach the door, however, she felt hands at her waist.

"What're you-?"

"Shh..." Shizuru murmured into her ear, running her fingers down so that they rested upon Natsuki's hips. She had donned the garb given to her with inhuman speed and was now pressing herself against the other woman, burying her nose in the wealth of black hair and breathing in the raw scent of her.

Natsuki wriggled at the tickling sensation of breath across the sensitive skin of her neck, "S-stop!"

Far from stopping, Shizuru gently yet firmly pushed Natsuki against the bedroom wall and turned her around so that they were facing one another, "No. I will not," she nuzzled Natsuki's throat and reveled in the sharp intake of breath her actions caused. The thick vein of Natsuki's neck, now so close to Shizuru's mouth, pulsed, aching to be released. Arms pushed weakly at her, but she ignored them. Raising her head briefly, only to speak to Natsuki for the last time, Shizuru informed her, "I shall not soon forget your many kindnesses to me in the short time we have known one another. Truly, you are a rare gift amongst people. Alas," she sighed, "I am not a person, though I will think back on you with only the utmost fondness."

As she spoke, she smiled widely and at last Natsuki saw the fangs there. Eyes, green as dappled fields of waving grass beneath the sun, widened. Terror coursed through her in a surging tide, "Shizuru?" she whispered.

At that one word, Shizuru froze. Something in Natsuki's intonation sent her whirling back to a scene deep in her past, a scene she thought she had finally managed to forget in her long stretch of memories, too long for her own comfort. A soft, warm body moved beneath her. The stench of blood and fear filled the room until she wanted to gag. Clear green eyes, eyes wide and deep as emerald oceans, stared up at her. It was her first feeding frenzy, and her beloved, her darling for whom she had given up everything, had walked, unwillingly, into the dungeon of her castle.

_"Shizuru?"_

_"Nina...?" Shizuru gasped, trembling violently, striving to keep the blood-lust at bay and failing._

A crash from the other room jerked her back to the present. Natsuki was still gazing up at her, stricken with trepidation. The scent of others, having broken into the house, made Shizuru's nose twitch. That gaze suddenly brimmed with a hellish light, glowing a fiery crimson as three men wearing black appeared in the doorway, "Why hello, darlin'," one greeted, though all three had a look in their eyes Shizuru knew all too well: murder, "Enjoying a midnight snack, are ya?"

* * *

**Dunh dunh DUNH!**

**/gasp**

**Readers: You can't just leave us hanging there!**

**Me: MWAHAHAHAAA! Watch me!**

**(1): Hungarian: "My, aren't you a pretty one!"**

**(2): Hungarian: "I just want to eat your heart!" (This is a literal translation. A similar expression exists in English where we say, "I just want to eat you up!" Both are generally said to small, endearing children. The context here, however, is supposed to be more chilling since, well, Shizuru really DOES want to eat her! :P**

**Until next time!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I realised after I wrote this that it's actually the shortest chapter thus far. My apologies. Though it makes up for what it lacks in size with its action! Finally, we get to see the brutal fate of those jerk-wads :) Blood and gore, aplenty!**

**Disclaimer: Mai HIME is not mine.**

* * *

Natsuki couldn't move.

She felt frozen in spot, trapped in a cage of her own icy fear.

Shizuru's words had pierced through her, but not nearly so much as her intimate nuzzling. Upon feeling those velvety lips brush lightly against the crook of her neck, Natsuki's limbs had shivered into liquid, sapped of all strength and initiative. Her body did not want Shizuru to stop, and her mind was not far behind in that sentiment.

Now, Shizuru slowly disentangled herself, attention fixed upon the three intruders. Natsuki had seen, but for a moment, her eyes sear, twin-gateways to a Stygian world of shrieking lost souls.

"Good evening, gentlemen," her smoky voice and lilting accent made Natsuki's head spin as though she had taken a deep draught of a heady draft, "How may I be of assistance?"

They exchanged amused glances, "Not from around these parts, are ya?"

"How astute of you," Shizuru's voice dripped with sarcasm.

Laughter, deep and clear, issued from the belly of the man in the middle, "Quite the cheeky little whore, aren't ya?" He smiled, making Natsuki's blood congeal in her veins, "Oh, I'll enjoy you...And don't worry," his dark red eyes flicked to Natsuki and caressed her from a distance, "We'll take _good_ care of your treat..." The other two guffawed at his words.

"I think not," Shizuru replied calmly.

No sooner had she spoken than her body seemed to flicker momentarily. Appearing suddenly before him, his smirking visage vanished as, with a flashing movement of her arm-unable to be seen by any within the vicinity-his skull shattered into innumerable shards that shot across the room like shrapnel in a shower of blood and thick globs of dark, grayish matter. The oozing body had not even the time to fall to the floor before Shizuru's pale hands were buried within another's chest. Without breaking that air of indelible grace and supremacy, she gripped either side of his rib cage, just beneath the breast-bone, and pulled. A great, fleshing tearing rent the air and his spine popped and crackled as his torso flew apart. By this time, the remaining offender had slipped into a state of motionless shock. His arm was flung across the room in a bloodied arc and a blow to the back sent him sprawling atop a half of his fellow.

"Why do you bear the arms of _Taté of Árpádok_?" Shizuru's cold voice descended from where she stood above him, tracing the symbols on his clothing with one pale finger.

He screamed wordlessly as the pain and realisation struck him.

"That is not an answer."

With a cruel swiftness, she wrenched off another arm with ease.

He shrieked, "I don't know! I don't know! Arms?"

Shizuru grasped a leg, "I do not condone lying."

Her fingernails dug into the skin of his ankle, slicing jaggedly through tendons that snapped and rolled up beneath his leg from the released tension, "CHRIST! Oh, fucking-Jesus-Please! Stop!"

"Do not take the Lord's name in vain," The rotator joint of his hip began to pop. Shizuru slowly pulled, foot planted on the small of his back to keep him in place, "I do believe I read somewhere that most of the world's population is still Christian," He howled, biting his lower lip until it bled as the leg finally detached with a sickening squelch. Natsuki felt the bile rise in her throat.

"Don't they teach you children anything in Sunday-School?" Shizuru chided, brandishing the limb like a teacher would a ruler, face a placid mask.

He gasped, blood dripping from his mouth, "Kill me..."

"What's that?"

"Kill me...Please..." He coughed, groaning.

She smiled kindly down at him, "Now, why would I-?"

Before she could finished her sentence, gunfire rang out. An electric blue bullet burrowed into the man's truncated torso, and he dissolved into ash. Shizuru glared, gripping the leg, as a horde of people filed neatly into the room. All of them were soldiers in dark grey and blue uniforms and full helms that obscured their features, a broad black strip running vertically up the smooth planes. Each shouldered a rifle directed at Shizuru, who made no move, simply stood in the centre of the room, relaxed. One of the soldiers bearing an orange stripe with a black sunburst down the left shoulder stepped forward, "Area secure. Artemis, you've got a green light to enter the perimeter."

An auburn ponytail bobbed as Midori strode into the room. Natsuki gasped, her back still pressed against the far wall. Tugging a lollipop from her mouth, Midori motioned to Natsuki without looking at her, "Callisto," the officer with the orange band snapped to attention at the name, "see to the girl."

"Ma'am."

Natsuki jerked back as Callisto reached for her, "D-Don't..." she shivered and closed her eyes.

"Leave her be," Shizuru's voice was a deadly whisper.

Callisto made no further advance and at her superior's nod, rejoined the ranks.

"Šizsur Violàsz," Midori gestured to Shizuru with her lollipop, "My predecessors and I have been awaiting your arrival for some time now, though I never imagined that you'd awaken under my watch."

"It came as a surprise to us both," she replied smoothly, tossing the leg to the floor beside the other limbs.

Natsuki gagged.

"Forgive me for being so rude," bowing at the waist, Midori introduced herself, "My name is Midori Sugiura and I am the Leader of the Cynthian Company." (1)

"Ah. I see," Shizuru nodded her head politely in return, "Then you must be a descendant of Harùkasz and her lot."

Midori stuck the sucker back in her mouth, disregarding the bodies, "Indeed!"

"Tell me, how is the old broad?" Shizuru asked with a grin.

"Dead."

Only Shizuru could make a snort sound graceful, "I'll believe that when I see it."

"Honestly, I'm amazed you haven't killed me yet," Midori changed the subject swiftly, bangs falling across her brow as she tilted her head, "Since Haruka was the one who killed you. Or rather, failed to."

"If you think that Haruka ever intended to kill me, you are a fool," she seemed amused at how time had twisted and warped the actual happenings of the past into an opaque imprint of what they in the present called 'history.'

The white stick of the lollipop switched to the other side of Midori's mouth, "Then Haruka and I are of the same mind. Will you accept my invitation to Phaesporia: Cynthian Headquarters?" (2)

Shizuru regarded her for a moment and a tension filled the room along with the silence. The synthetic material of the soldiers' armour creaked as they shifted warily. Fingers grazed triggers nervously, though they were prudent and did not come close to shooting without orders. Black visors glinted sleekly in the poorly lit room. Natsuki could be heard retching in a corner, heaving up nothing.

"Will Natsuki be accompanying us?"

She grinned around the cherry-sweet, "I wouldn't dream of leaving her behind."

"Then, by all means."

A sharp movement from Midori sent the soldiers trotting out in methodical lines, the floors beneath their thick-soled boots thundering. She herself started forward, hand outstretched to gently touch Natuski's shoulder, but the dark-haired girl shrank away, breathing heavily.

"Natsuki," she said soothingly, "It's alright. I'm sorry you had to see this, but we're leaving now. You don't have to look at it anymore."

The girl did not respond.

Shizuru glided forward, brushing Midori aside despite the woman's warning that Shizuru probably wasn't the optimal person to be parleying with the skittish university student.

"_Natsuki."_

Large emerald eyes gradually moved up a gore-besmeared Shizuru, meeting those surprisingly pacifying eyes. She felt the knotted muscles of her back loosen, fiber by fiber, as she stared at Shizuru's red-painted hand. It was not moving towards her, simply held out, waiting.

Waiting, it seemed, though no great amount of time passed, until twilight fell, until dusk cloaked them in an enfolding shroud of shadow and newborn moonlight. The moon's rays gently struck Shizuru from behind, wreathing her in a soft, preternatural glow. Her features were dark; only the slope of her brow and cheek were discernible, but all else faded in the wake of her eyes. Like twin lanterns of scarlet, luminous, they shone through the gloom between them and struck Natsuki into an observant reverence. How terrible, yet how ensnaring! She felt the breath flow from her and melt into the floor beneath them that dropped away from Shizuru's seething divinity, letting loose sparks in radiant abscondances, great searing arks from that crimson gaze of such chthonic agelessness. At that moment, she finally understood what the laurelled poet must have meant when he chanted of one nyxian Fury whose eyes burned like thunder and whose voice could summon the skirling storms of man's cyclonic soul with but a murmur. With black torches she haunted her through the nights until, at last, this moon-rise ended the ceaseless hunt.

There remained one obstacle.

Her own treacherous heart. A hart too fond of arrows. A hart that relished the wandering paths of Carthaginian Queens. This keen-scented Fury Natsuki did not wish for ox-eyed Saturnia to dismiss beneath Jove's empyreal throne. Too long had persisted the pursuit, and now she submitted herself to her, chaste, the chase coming to an end at last.

She took Shizuru's hand, feeling the slickness of it, the grimy stickiness of congealing blood, and allowed herself to be led from the premises.

* * *

**(1) : I am basing Yuuichi Tate on the Arpadok family of Hungary.**

**(2): Cynthia was another name for Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt. (Hunt. Hunters. Vampire Hunters. Yea? No? I thought it was alright...)**

**(3): Phaesporia was an epithet for Artemis. It means "Light Bringer." Very appropriate, I thought, for Vampire Hunters.**

**Hope y'alls enjoyed it! I'll try to update again soon! And there is, in fact, a direct correlation to the number of reviews I get and how fast I update. It's scientifically proven. Don't believe me? Well, review and find out :P**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks for all the reviews! Y'alls are awesome. It was a Saturday, so you're in luck! I decided to pump this one out on short notice. All for you. Be grateful. :P**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Amber liquid filled a large snifter made of thin glass, reflecting the light of a fire in the tall fireplace which was the only source of light in the room. The vapours reached Shizuru's nose, strong and vibrant with woody colours. Tipping the glass back, she downed it and poured another. Shizuru drank and drank and each time she threw back another swig of the amber liquid she felt but a burning headiness that swiftly faded in the empty recesses of the voracious corpse that was her body. She could taste what she ate, but mortal food was a transient pleasure that could not, in and of itself, sustain her cursed corporeal form.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Come in."

Midori entered and asked politely, "I trust you enjoyed your bath?"

"Mmm, yes. Thank you," Shizuru tipped the glass back and filled it once more before walking over to settle back in her deep, cushioned chair. She wore a loosely flowing dress that fell just past her knees and was a red so deep as to be black, shimmering a dark ruby when she moved and the hems fluttered behind her, swirling about her legs in fleet-footed flight like a dance. Laced, criss-crossed, up her calves were a pair of soft black leather sandals, looking like a mix between Roman legionnaire's footware and that of a ballerina. In reality, the dress was simply a staggered sheet of cloth that she had pulled from an enormous armoire standing sentinel to the sprawling bed. Folding it in half, pinning it at her shoulders and belting it with a wide sash of rich creamy satin that hugged her hips alluringly, Shizuru had effectively fashioned a chiton for herself, having rejected the questionable attire offered to her.

Pants? She had plucked at the form-fitting trousers with distaste. A Lady did _not_ wear pants.

"I'm amazed you came willingly. I thought I was going to have to subdue you forcibly and drag you here kicking and screaming," Midori did not mean it to be in any way insulting, and Shizuru did not take it as such.

She smiled, amused, "I think you'll find I can be quite reasonable at times, contrary to popular belief." She grinned at Midori around her glass, "Unless you would prefer to sharpen a few stakes while I make ready my trusty iron-maiden. Then, by all means..."

Midori chuckled, "Looking to have a bit of fun, are you?"

"Always," her voice was rounded within the bowl of her beverage as she took a neat sip. Shizuru made an appreciative noise, "This really is lovely whiskey you have."

"Why thank you," The auburn-haired hunter stood, "Is there anything else you'd like?"

Shizuru watched her walk to the liquor cabinet and pour herself a glass, "I don't suppose you would happen to be willing to supply me with nourishment?"

"Me, personally?" Midori asked jokingly, the thick glass of the decanter clinking against the more delicate snifter.

"That was not my original intention, but if you are offering," red eyes burned in their sockets, the dimly lit room making the skin around them seem dark and bruised so that they glinted like candles from a deep cave, "I would not refuse."

"Should I be flattered?" Midori rejoined her, sitting in a chair across the low table in front of the fireplace.

Shizuru shrugged, a rolling of her slender shoulders, "You have a rather pleasant scent about you. But you are not my favourite...flavour," she admitted.

"I am both honoured and relieved," Midori retorted dryly, "However, I am not offering. Nor will I force any of my Company to do so."

"A pity," Shizuru said, "And if they submit to me voluntarily?"

The Cynthian Company's leader narrowed her eyes, "I would prefer it if you did not propose something of the sort to them, either."

"You leave me little choice, Artemis. How shall I keep myself fed? What If I grow...desperate?" Shizuru's tone was light, but her words were threatening in nature, pushing the woman's boundaries.

"What was that you said about being reasonable?" Midori replied a bit sharply.

"Peace," Shizuru held up her hands with a smile, "I was but testing your limits. Even humans do that, if I can recall correctly."

Midori harumphed, taking a sizeable gulp of whiskey, "Normally not with human lives as their medium."

"And I suppose war does not test human limits with human lives?" The vampire queried slyly, "I've missed out on quite a few large ones while I was away."

"What a travesty." Her retort was dry and cutting.

"Now now," Shizuru chided teasingly, "Don't be rude. You obviously need me for something, else you would have disposed of me in Natsuki's quarters. Or tried to, at any rate."

For a few moments, Midori merely rolled her glass between her hands, observing the warm swell of amber liquid within, "We would like your help," Midori finally informed her directly.

Shizuru arched a brow but said, "Go on."

"The vampire community has grown vast over the years. We, The Company, have managed to systematically thin their ranks, but I fear it's not enough. The Clans have bickered with one another for centuries now, but it has steadily escalated recently. War is coming. And it will be upon us swift as plague."

"These Clans you speak of," Shizuru leaned back in her seat, steepling her long fingers and crossing her legs, "What are they?"

Midori stared, "The Three Clans...Didn't _you_ found them?"

Shizuru shook her head.

"But you made the vampires?"

"I created an elite personal guard with numbers only large enough to conquer my enemies and not draw unwanted attention to me and mine," her words were smooth as a serpent's, matter-of-fact, "I fed them with constant warfare which, in my time, was as proclivitous as breathing, and refused to allow them to reproduce or create others without my express consent. Those who did so were punished. Severely."

"Well," she twirled her auburn hair thoughtfully, "Then after you were entombed they must have flocked to a few strong individuals without your leadership to guide them."

Shizuru nodded in agreement, "What you say is logical."

"Alright," Midori leaned forward, "The Three Clans are each led by a single Elder and an aristocratic Court. They are Rákóczi, under Reito Kanzaki, Árpádok under Tate Yuuichi the second, and Medveczky, under Maria Graceburt. The Fangs who attacked you were mere goons who thought you were trespassing upon their feeding grounds and those of their level would refer to them in some sort of slang. We, the Company, and the Aristocracy, however, speak of the Clans with their official namesakes. Presently we are in the Árpádok Kingdom. All vampires are very territorial and any of their kind who trespasses is treated without mercy. They have very strict borders that fluctuate only a few miles per year but have been stable for quite a long time now, which is reason enough to cause concern," Midori took a deep breath and plunged forward, continuing, "Intel shows that they've been amassing behind their borders, gorging upon the human populations beneath them and training soldiers. I've seen the barracks, myself."

"I imagine they are fearful sights to behold," Shizuru grinned, "Not to mention heavily guarded. I commend your stealth and bravery."

"That feels oddly...nice?" Midori frowned, "Thank you, I suppose. I'm sorry, it's just queer to be talking to a vampire in a civilised manner, let alone being _praised _by one," she laughed grimly, "Hell! Especially not by you!"

"I am not like those you have ever encountered before," ruby eyes glinted with amusement, "_That_, I can guarantee."

Midori raised her hands defensively, smiling, "I believe it!"

Shizuru drained the last of the expensive scotch and ran a red tongue over the brim of the wide-bowled snifter to catch the last drop, "I'll help you."

She blinked, "Just like that? You don't think it's a trap?"

"Regardless of whatever trap you may have in store for me should you decide to convert to treachery, it would be in vain."

"How can you be so sure?"

That fanged smile glinted, "It. _Would._ Be. In. Vain."

Midori didn't press the matter. She wanted to live to see another day.

"Ye of little faith!" Shizuru chided on a more light-hearted note.

Forcing a smile in return, she rose to leave, "We'll start tomorrow evening after you've had a chance to rest during the day."

"How kind of you," Shizuru murmured, words laced with sarcasm.

Midori opened the door to leave, but paused at Shizuru's query, "Where is Natsuki?"

"She is safe," Midori responded, side stepping the question.

"I wish to see her."

"I don't think that would be best," she said slowly.

Eyes flashed with a scarlet light, menacing through the shadows, "That was not a request."

She gulped, held captive by her own swelling terror, "Ill...just...go get her."

"Now, _that_ would be best."

Midori fled the room and the creature residing within it.

Once on the other side of the door, feeling only slightly more secure now that she was no longer occupying the same room, Midori let out a breath she hadn't even known she was holding. Shoulders sagged, eyes closed and she took a deep, steadying breath. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, she thought to herself.

"Ma'am?"

Midori looked up to see the nine soldiers standing guard outside Shizuru's door all looking at her. Though she could not see their eyes, she knew they were concern. Worried. Nervous. Hell, they should be. They should be scared out of their wits, and if they're not Ill let them take more liquor to the monster. See how they like being struck by that terrifying stare as though they were flies on a wall. By the time she had left, Shizuru had already been finishing off the bottle and rumaging through the cabinet for more, completely unfazed no matter how much she imbibed.

"Callisto," Midori said sharply, and the soldier stepped forward quickly, "You're to retrieve Kruger and bring her here."

The soldier visibly hesitated, "Ma'am?"

"You heard me," Midori growled, raising a hand to her temple. She was getting a migraine, "I give you permission to reveal yourself to her, if you wish it."

Callisto saluted and strode down the corridor.

A particularly nasty twinge in her head made Midori wince. She made for her room, desperate for sleep yet knowing she would receive next to none. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

**If you have any questions about the history of the Clans, it'll all be answered in consequent chapters.**


	7. Chapter 7

**I don't know why, but ever since I read "Inter Nos" (which is AMAZING btw if you haven't read it, go. Do yourself a favour. Read it. It's on this site, so just type it in to the search engine.) I always think of Natsuki now as looking like X-23 from Marvel vs. Capcom 3. I don't know why. Maybe it's the long, dark, straight hair. Maybe it's the great slender figure. Or maybe its the general badassery. Methinks, it might be a combo of all of these things.**

**Go Google a pic of X-23 from MvC3 and tell me what you think.**

**Right? Right? See what I mean?**

**No?**

**Damn. I thought I was on to something there...**

**Anyway, thanks again for all the wonderful reviews and, as always, enjoy!**

* * *

Rage.

Sing, O Muse, of the futile rage of stormy-eyed Natsuki. Natsuki who dwelt alone in a writhing bed of ire, nursing such passion of wroth beneath her breast. Alone in the dark with only her thoughts, how temperance must have slipped so swiftly through her fingers like all the dry sand of Libya!

Why, she pondered, why did I come?

Like a sacrificial bull, sleek and strong, she strained against her bonds. The hands of priests stroked that thick sweaty neck wreathed with fresh laurels, hoping to soothe the rolling whites of her eyes, but she had caught the scent of blood drifting from reeking altars dedicated to a dark goddess, a goddess with Shizuru's calmly smiling features.

Turning upon the large bed, Natsuki punched a pillow, teeth gritted, eyes narrowed to thin strips of vibrant green. She would not submit to this slaughter. She would claw and thrash against her captor with a terrible will.

But who was her captor? Hadn't she come willingly? Hadn't she taken that blood-smeared hand and allowed herself to be led here as she clutched to Shizuru's arm? Why had she done that? Why? Why? At this query the anger flowed through her in fresh waves.

She had been standing beneath the shower-head in this strange place - Phaesporia, Midori had called it - feeling the intense need to be clean, when the outrage, the self-loathing and confusion all welled up within her, smiting the initial shock that had previously been ruling her. Truth be told, Natsuki had no idea why she had done what she did. This heedlessness, this thoughtlessness was probably what rankled most. All through her life, she knew what she wanted. She knew she wanted to buy a motorcycle. She knew she wanted to slather mayonnaise upon her sandwiches. She knew she wanted to study weapons and their origins. She knew she wanted her trusted revolvers. Doubt was not a sentiment she was at all familiar with, for she had never truly encountered it before. And now, in the space of a few hours, her entire world had been spun on its head like a child's toy.

And that, quite frankly, pissed her the fuck off.

"What. The. FUCK!" Natsuki yelled, leaping to her feet and stalking to the unlit fireplace. From the mantle she snatched up a porcelain figurine and hurled it across the room. The resultant crash gave her great satisfaction and she seized another to shatter elsewhere. Shards of coloured glass and painted porcelain flew around the room, flung in fury.

"God." _Crash. _"Fucking." _Crash. _"DAMNIT!" _Crash._

A knock at the door.

"_WHAT?"_

The scrolled handle turned and the soldier Midori had called 'Callisto' came into the room.

"Come to give me my cell phone back, have you?" Natsuki asked scathingly.

Callisto hesitated, "No."

That dark-gray, armour-clad arm rose and gloved fingers lightly touched a spot on her helm. A soft hiss issued from the impenetrable helmet and she slowly removed it from her short ruffled hair.

Orange hair.

Natsuki gaped, "Mai...?"

Sorrow adorned Mai's face. She lowered the helm and propped it under one arm with practiced ease, "I'm sorry, Natsuki."

"Sorry?" she asked, incredulous, "You're _sorry?_ How long have you...?" She waved her arms at Mai's armour, at the rifle slung across her back.

"About six years now."

That dark head shook slowly in disbelief, "This whole time...The entire time I knew you..." Green eyes flared, "So _this_ is what you were doing on your 'weekly family trips', was it?"

Mai's gaze dropped, "I joined the Company long before I met you, Natsuki. Please don't take it personally. _Please._" Her voice cracked slightly, and she cleared her throat.

"I can't believe this..." her hand clenched around a fluted glass vase.

"This doesn't mean we're not friends," Mai insisted, stepping forward, arm out, imploring, "I still-"

"Friends don't keep secrets from one another," Natsuki hissed, "Not secrets like this. Secrets that screw up my life. My. Life." She repeated emphatically, hand drawing back as if to throw, "Screwed. All of it."

"Natsuki..."

"How the hell am I suppose to return to the way things were before?" her voice started to climb levels, "There are dead bodies in my apartment. There's a _monster_ who wants nothing more than to drain me dry. My boss is the leader of some secret organization with its own God-damned private army, of which my best friend is conveniently an officer in!" She gesticulated wildly, "How is any of that OK?"

Mai listened, head hung, "I-I wanted to tell you, but my orders-"

_Crash._

The vase broke upon the adjacent wall, nowhere near Mai, but still making her flinch.

"Screw your orders!" Natsuki yelled, "Just...Get out! I can't look at you right now."

"I can't," Mai whispered.

"Sure you can," she retorted, facetious, "The door's right there. If you want, I'll gladly kick your sorry ass out."

"Miss Kruger," Mai's voice suddenly hardened to cold steel, the voice of a soldier, though her pale green eyes still bore sadness, "I can't do what you ask, because I have been ordered to bring you to Viola. If you do not come voluntarily, I will call for your guards and have you dragged there. Have I made myself clear?"

Natsuki stared, "You have got to be fucking kidding me..." She met Mai's gaze and saw that she meant what she had said, "Jesus..." Natsuki scratched at her cheek, biting her tongue to keep from retaliating once more, "You're putting me in the same room with that thing? Did you see what it did to those creeps? What if it decides it's suddenly hungry?"

"If I recall correctly," Mai replied, "That thing saved you. And if you think for a second that I would let her hurt you, you're wrong." Her mouth thinned, determined, "I have nine highly trained guards with UV bullets stationed outside of her quarters and cameras situated in her room. If she gets out of hand, I'll know of it and I'll shoot her down myself. With relish." She turned and strode towards the door, her steps exact, "Will you follow willingly?"

For a moment, Natsuki said nothing. Then, after considering her options, she swore loudly and stomped out.

* * *

Shizuru's chin tilted up expectantly when she heard footsteps approaching from outside. That recalcitrant grumble from down the hall could only be Natsuki. The door opened and the girl herself walked in, footsteps bold, jaw set. Who was the last person to meet her gaze in such a way? Had it been, perhaps, that swarthy Turk upon the battlefield so many years ago? Charging upon his sturdy steed across the plains, swinging his silver scimitar fast and sure, even managing to decapitate one of her best personal guards as his black horse's pounding hooves bore him increasingly toward her. She had felt the excitement thrill her just as it did now, shooting out to her tingling fingertips and leaving her in a state of perennial anticipation. What war had that been? She easily lost track of such things. Memories ran together like dripping watercolours in the wake of ages filled with blood-lust and brutality.

"Good evening, Natsuki," she savoured the feel of her name, the way it tickled the palate of her mouth with her tongue. Gesturing to the table before the snarling fire laden with food and a bottle of chilled white wine, Shizuru invited, "Please, join me. I noticed that you didn't eat dinner due to my presence early tonight."

Natsuki eyed the food dubiously, "Can you even eat human food?"

"But of course," she smoothed her skirts over her knees as she sat in the armchair, "I enjoy a delicious meal and fine company just as much as the next person."

"_Person_," Natsuki repeated, cynical, "Sure."

"Oh, come now, Natsuki. Don't be so distant," Shizuru chided playfully, pouring a glass of wine and sipping, "Besides, the food will get cold."

Stepping forward quickly with large strides, Natsuki sneered, "Why would I want to have a meal with you? Last time, I remember _I_ was going to be your meal!"

With a sigh, Shizuru leaned back in her chair and regarded the dark-haired maiden over the top of the other armchair, "I wanted to discuss that."

"Really? When were you going to do that? _During_ dinner? Catch me unawares," Natsuki snorted derisively, waving her away with a sharp movement of her hand, "I'm not an idiot, Shizuru."

"I never said you were, pet," She added the diminutive tag, meant to be innocuous and blithe, without thinking and Natsuki near blew a blood vessel.

Black brows drew down in a furious scowl, "I am not your god-damned pet! I am not your snack! The whole time-since the museum basement, since the library and the bath-the whole fucking time you were planning to eat me?" Natsuki asked, incredulous, voice rising from panic, "_Eat me?_"

Shizuru's gaze did not waver and she looked directly into Natsuki's eyes, unabashed, "I make no apologies for what I am."

"And what exactly are you?" her voice was scathing,

"That has been the topic of fierce discussion for a long, long time now," Shizuru said softly. She took a different direction, attempting to calm the girl down, "Please. Sit. I won't do anything untoward."

Fuming silently, Natsuki planted her rear heavily into the seat, arms crossed, not looking at Shizuru, who insisted, "Let's just talk. I only wanted to talk."

For a few moments, they merely sat in silence. Shizuru did not press her; she would speak in her own time. Finally, after staring into the fire for what seemed like ages as Shizuru calmly sipped her wine, Natsuki pushed her own glass forward. Without a word, the woman poured and Natsuki lifted the glass to her lips. Drinking, she still felt uncomfortable, sitting, perched, upon the very edge of her seat, "How," Natsuki cleared her throat, "How did you even become...whatever it is that you are? Were you born this way?"

"No. I chose to be like this."

"Why would you ever _choose _to be a...a..." she floundered for a word.

"Monster?" Shizuru's stare grew icy, "I'm afraid that information is of a rather sensitive and intimate nature. I do not like detailing that which is most private about my life. Especially to humans I met not a day past."

"I can keep secrets," It was more of a defensive statement than one that was trying to convince Shizuru to open up to her.

"In my experience, mortals are too preoccupied with their limited lifespan to be outstandingly reliable," Her face softened slightly, "Though I do believe that you are...different."

Black brows drew down sharply in a contemplative scowl, "Why do you say that?"

Shizuru paused, thinking, before responding slowly, "I don't know. You...remind me of someone I was..._acquainted_ with many years ago."

"Nina?" Natsuki could remember the name being whispered into her ear back in her apartment along with a tormented look upon the other woman's face. Who was this Nina, she wondered.

Shizuru stiffened visibly. Her gaze burned dangerously, "It would be within your best interest to never mention that name in my presence again." Her voice was low and deadly.

Natsuki averted her eyes, overcome with an uncontrollable shiver at the overwhelmingly violent aura of the other woman, "I-I'm sorry," she whispered, swallowing the fear rising in her gorge.

Silence and then the tension in the air loosened. Sighing slightly, Shizuru used the setting of her wine upon the table as an excuse to lean forward in an attempt at congeniality. She was not used to having to revert to such things as amiability, "You are not at fault. You simply did not know any better."

"Why?" Natsuki mumbled.

"Pardon?"

She brought her gaze up fiercely and glared despite her quaking fear, "Why didn't you kill me? Why did you protect me? Why did you bring me here? Why?"

Natsuki had not thought it possible and was stunned when she witnessed the softening of those crimson eyes, "I wanted to apologize."

"I thought you said-"

"Not for what I am, but for what I almost did and in what context," Pale fingers wove together in Shizuru's lap, "You showed me great hospitality and I took advantage of your sincerity. For that, I am truly sorry. I will not make that mistake again. You have my word."

"How can I know that?" Natsuki pressed, hands digging into the tall back of the seat, "How can I be sure?"

Shizuru's answer was stony, her expression unreadable, "You can't."

Natsuki snorted, "Well, that's reassuring." She took another sip of wine. "This is actually pretty good," she admitted grudgingly, loathe as she was to give Shizuru any satisfaction whatsoever.

Fangs glinted as Shizuru smiled, "A compliment! I'm amazed! You may have to get the smelling-salts."

"Har. Har." Green eyes rolled.

Studying the smooth line of Natsuki's cheek, emerald eyes sparkling in the firelight, Shizuru asked pleasantly, "Shall we partake of this fine repast as well? I don't know if the Company fed you, but whatever slop they served pales in comparison, I'm sure."

Natsuki hesitated for but a moment and then an impish smile crept into her features, "No. Here's what we'll do," she sat forward, looking directly into Shizuru's inquiring gaze, "We're going to play a game."

An eyebrow quirked, "I'm intrigued. Go on. What is this game you speak of?"

"For every bite I take, you have to tell me about your past."

Shizuru was stunned. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had caused her to gape like a salmon, shock written all over the crinkle of her brow and the slackness of her jaw, "I...beg your pardon?"

Natsuki grinned, "You heard me. Or...I could just leave now," she heaved a great, histrionic sigh, gazing mournfully at the spread of food before them, "What a waste. This really does look delicious."

Conflicted, Shizuru felt something that oddly resembled panic as Natsuki started to rise from her seat. Panic? Šizsur Violàsz, Countess of Hungary, Blight of Heaven, as some foolishly called her, did not _panic_, "Wait!"

Natsuki paused.

Why did Shizuru even want this girl, this frail human whelpling, to stay? She, herself, only vaguely knew the reason, and only a small portion of it, at that. Reliving the gentler years, the kinder, human years of her life, stored away in the deep recesses of her mind, was not a practice she frequently indulged in, if ever. And with good reason.

"I'll play your game," she said stiffly and warned, "But you may not like the outcome."

Looking immensely pleased with herself, Natsuki returned to her seat. Her body language spoke of more ease which, by itself, lifted the dormant remnants of what was once Shizuru's heart, "Fantastic," she reached forward and picked up a crusty roll, "But before we begin, I am in need of additional condiments. MAI!" She yelled in the direction of the door, twisting her body around as it opened.

"What is it?" Mai tore into the room, rifle held at the ready so that the red-dot scope burned right in the centre of Shizuru's forehead.

Shizuru arched a cool brow at her, "Such hospitality, these Artemisians have."

"Mai," Natsuki drew her friend's attention to her and gestured at the bread roll in her grasp, "Mayo."

The Cynthian officer lowered her weapon with a disbelieving groan, "Jesus, Natsuki! I thought you were in danger!"

"I am in danger! Of being thoroughly disappointed with my dinner."

Grumbling, Mai stalked out of the room.

"Mayo?" Shizuru asked, head cocked to the side so that her hair swept around her white neck.

Natsuki's face lit up, "Oh! It's great! You'll love it!" She insisted zealously.

Seconds later, Mai returned with a large jar of mayo and tossed it at Natsuki who caught it with a grin, "I hope you have a heart-attack."

"Aww! I love you too!"

The door slammed shut behind her.

Sniggering, Natsuki unscrewed the bright blue cap and slathered a generous helping of mayonnaise onto the bread. She took a large bite and let out a moan of pleasure, sagging into the armrest, "Mmmmm!"

Shizuru sniffed the jar. Pulling a disgusted face, she held it out at arms length as though holding a maggot-infested carcass, "What _is_ that?"

"Mayonnaise," Natsuki informed her jovially, scooping another heaping knife-blade full of the creamy substance onto the second half of her roll.

"And you think _I_ have bad eating habits?"

"Hey, don't judge!" she jabbed the knife in Shizuru's direction emphatically.

Shizuru sniffed, delicately tearing off a sliver of meat from the _duck confit _and dipping it in sour cherry sauce before popping it into her mouth, "I could never be accused of doing that. Trust me."

Licking her fingers, Natsuki snagged a slice of baked sweet potato seasoned with rosemary and thyme and wagged it at the woman sitting across from her, "Now. Talk."

* * *

**Sweetness. Hope y'alls liked it! Tune in next time for the Life of Shizuru Viola!**

**Plus a few twists and turns in plot. You know I love those :P**


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm baaaaack! Did I make you wait long? What was it? A whole 2 days this time? Ye gads! How have you survived! :P**

**If anyone was wondering what Shizuru's outfit looked like in chapters 6 and 7, google paintings by John Godward. You'll find some lovely Pre-Raphaelite / Neo-Classicist oils of young Graeco-Roman girls dressed the way I imagined Shizuru was dressed. (Not the naked pictures, of course. Poor Natsuki would have died from blood-loss! So great would have been her nosebleed, Mai would've had to round up the world's creatures and build an ark).**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: MaiHIME is not mine.**

* * *

The Voices were never far off.

They filled this body.

They fulfilled this body.

Always, they could be found swirling within with tempestuous rancour, driving this body to madness and despair. For years they had plagued this body since infancy. Then, as a child, the Voices had issued from the still mouths of grinning dolls, their dead eyes staring, clustered in every corner. Glassy beads and buttons burned within their alternately woolen and plastic heads, slumped over from gravity, watching this body's movements from beneath lowered brows with tilting glances. They spoke to this body, instructed it. Now, even after they had been disposed of against this body's express will, they followed, lingering in this body's mind. But now, they were the Voices. Disembodied. Whispering. Always whispering.

Even in sleep, they murmured.

Without warning, they would suddenly grow restless. Rising in babbling crescendos, raving with oracular frenzy as a nameless god dug bronze spurs into their shivering flanks. It was in those moments, this body knew. Knew that every motion, every being, every object and star bore portents.

This body watched. And this body listened.

For this body was the Revenant. And the Revenant was the Prophet of the Second Coming.

"Revenant."

Lowering this body's arms, raised in prayer, pouring libations from flat bronze bowl upon an altar. Black robes hung loose about this body, thick cloth with no ties. Knots bottled up magic. Deep red candles faintly pushed back the pressing darkness. Slow mumbles, rumblings of a strange snarling tongue not meant for human utterance, thrummed on, oblivious to the servant kneeling at the base of the dais.

Finally, the twisted words faded and the Revenant turned, folds brushing against atramentous stone laced with gray, "My Child," that dark voice rasped, face hidden in shadows, "What news from the outside world?"

The kneeling robed figure spoke, "The good Doctor completed his task. She has risen and walks the earth once more."

A sharp intake of breath and then, "Where is She?" The Revenant asked sharply.

"With the Company."

"Perfect," An excited hiss escaped from beneath the hood, whirling around the room and making the many candles gutter and scald their beds of wet wax, "Return now to the Company, my Child. You wouldn't want to be noticed missing."

The Novice bowed and departed.

Turning, a set of eyes could be seen glinting darkly beneath the deep shadows of the cowl. The Voices wailed and raged. With a grim smile, the Revenant dipped two fingers into a thickening, red substance and drew upon the altar. Above, an impaled ram's head with great curling horns, yellowed with age, observed the proceedings from its place high upon a stake.

"And the flesh of the world will be rent," the Revenant chanted with barely restrained glee, "And the living will fall into a pit of bone and ash and flame. The earth quakes. The skies thunder. The Dragon wakes and tears the land asunder."

* * *

With a crack of bone and sinew, Natsuki tore off a leg of duck. The poultry had been slow-cooked after marinating for a few days, and the threads of meat hung loosely from the core, shivering in the fire-warmed air. Grinding salt all across the leg, she dipped her finger in the cherry sauce and tasted. Hmm. Not her favourite. Though she imagined it must have been prepared just for this dish. Ah, well. She had never felt guilty about refusing food she did not like, which really wasn't often. Like most university students, Natsuki leaped at the chance of free food. She, herself, had positively abysmal cooking skills, and was lucky to have friends like Mai who would stock her fridge with pre-cooked meals lest she live off the frozen food section.

"I do not know the actual date of my birth," Shizuru had just begun after Natsuki's proposal of the game, "but I know I was born sometime in the late ninth century. In southern _Magyarország_, I think. Sorry. Hungary, is what you call it in English, yes? In any case, I did not live at _Csejte vára _until later. Much later." (1)

Natsuki listened as Shizuru spoke. Sinking her teeth into the leg and seizing a hefty chunk of meat, she chewed. She stopped and looked appraisingly at the leg. Damn! It was good! Mai couldn't cook like _this_! Where had Shizuru gotten it, anyway?

"I take it you like it, then?"

She looked up to find Shizuru studying her actions with a small smile. Swallowing, Natsuki replied, "Yea. Where'd you get it?"

Shizuru waved the question away, nonchalant, "Oh! I have my ways! I can be quite _convincing_, you know."

Arching a dubious, dark brow, Natsuki gestured for her to continue, a flap of skin from the meat in peril of dropping to the table, "Don't even think of stopping there. That's not nearly enough information for me to stay."

Shooting her an exasperated look, Shizuru poured herself some more wine and went on, "I saw the coronation of Stephen at Esztergom when I was but a child and therefore remember little of it," she paused thoughtfully, nodding to herself, "He was a tall man, if memory serves correctly. But at that time everyone looked tall."

At this, Natsuki frowned, "I thought the Bathorys didn't immigrate to Hungary until the reign of King Peter, more than thirty years after the coronation of Stephen."

An amused look crossed Shizuru's face and she smiled, saying teasingly, "My, my! What a well informed little Natsuki you are!"

Feeling the blush rising to her cheeks, she retorted hastily, "I like Medieval history, is all! Though I specialize in the study of Medieval weaponry," her voice took on an air that could almost be called excitement with what she spoke next, though it was really just a general passion for the subject which drove her to speak with such relish, "Your iron maiden, for example, or "Iron Virgin" as you called it, was the earliest known prototype of such a device which actually wasn't created until the eighteenth century."

Shizuru's smile turned grim, "Yes. I can recall that quite clearly."

Realizing exactly what that entailed, Natsuki felt suddenly sickened, "Oh..." She looked down at the duck leg in her hand as though loosing her appetite.

Changing the subject quickly, Shizuru said, "But you are correct. The Gutkeled did not migrate to Hungary until later, and the Báthorys were not yet in existence. I, however, was not always a Báthory. Originally I was born into the Árpádok House, and at the age of fourteen I was married to a distant cousin," she contemplated for a moment before saying, "He was a decent man. Loyal to his king, but ambitious."

Natsuki almost choked on her wine, "E-Excuse me?" she coughed, setting down her glass, "You were _married?_"

"But of course," a small frown creased the space between Shizuru's brow, "I was a young noblewoman from a wealthy family, why wouldn't I wed?"

"Did you..." she cleared her throat uncomfortably, not knowing how to best ask this next question, "Uh...sp-ah...reproduce?"

_Shit._ She almost said 'spawn'. She didn't think Shizuru would've been too happy about that.

Red eyes lowered to the food, which the other woman suddenly found most preoccupying, "I did. I had two children. A boy and a girl."

"What were their names?" She reached for another duck leg.

"I don't remember," came the tormented whisper.

The tender duck meat froze in its steady travel to Natsuki's open mouth, "What? But-?"

"Can we talk about something else?" Shizuru was suddenly curt and crisp, her tone business-like and brook-no-nonsense.

"Uh..." _Shit. Fuck. Please don't eat me._ "Yea. Hmm..." She searched wildly for another topic. Green eyes alighted upon the fire, "Were you ever burned at the stake?"

Shizuru had not been expecting that. She barked out a harsh laugh and drained her glass of wine, "Once. In Italy."

"But I thought vampires were susceptible to fire?" Natsuki's even white teeth tore into the duck leg.

"And scorch upon entering a church? And burn to cinders when doused with Holy Water? Or perhaps we shrivel up and perish when stabbed through the heart with a wooden stake!" A deep chuckle rolled from her, "What foolishness!" She scoffed, "You'd do best to forget any of those ridiculous tales." Peering down the neck of the wine bottle, she realized that it was empty and growled, "We're out of alcohol."

Frowning, Natsuki jerked her thumb over her shoulder, "I thought I saw a liquor-cabinet over there."

"It's empty." Indeed, numerous empty bottles had been neatly stacked beside it. Sighing, she plucked up a grape from a nearby dessert platter filled with fruit and cheese and ate it. Inwardly, she cursed in her own tongue, Hungarian. Nothing could quench the thirst, but the hard fumes of strong alcohol helped cover it up. Only if she drank it incessantly, though. Now, however, Natsuki had been in the room long enough for her scent to suffuse the air around them, making Shizuru's mouth water. Her fingers began to drum against the armrest and she kept her civil mask fixed carefully in place.

Natsuki, on the other hand, didn't notice anything and didn't want to veer off the last topic quite yet, "Wait, so what _does_ hurt a vampire? Silver?"

"Thinking about disposing of me, are you?" Shizuru asked playfully.

"That depends on you," Natsuki muttered, taking another large bite.

For a moment, she did not answer, but after Natsuki raised an eyebrow and threateningly lowered her food, she admitted, "Silver does nothing, but sunlight is irritating. Since those special bullets the Artemisians have dispatched our brutish friend back at your dwelling, I imagine the younger generations are much weaker to sunlight than those I turned originally. In my day, my kin could last for hours in the sun without much more than a bad rash where skin had been exposed. Personally," she laid a hand upon her chest, wrist tilted delicately, "I find it only mildly annoying."

Just then, green eyes took note of the thrumming of those pale fingers upon the armrest. Was the woman restless? What could-?

Oh.

Tentatively, Natsuki asked, "Was I the first one you came across, Shizuru?"

The thrumming ceased, "Why do you ask?"

"Well...uhm...Have you..._eaten_ yet?"

Blood-red eyes seared into her own and she wished she hadn't asked, "I have. Though it was a poor repast," she added bitterly.

"Ah..." Natsuki suddenly felt very uneasy. Now that she knew, she could see the hunger in that stare, see the way those eyes traveled across her face and down to her neck, flicking quickly to her upturned wrist. Clearing her throat, she shifted so that her hands were laced over her thighs, wrists pointing down.

"I think," Shizuru began, voice hoarse, "You should probably get some sleep. It's...late."

Nodding, Natsuki stood, wary, and her movement stirred the warm air, sending wafts of her scent whorling around her and rippling outward. Shizuru's breath caught, her pupils dilated to small pinpricks of black within raging red tides. The sheer want to taste, to consume clawed at her throat. She could be gentle, a part of her rationed darkly, she could make it pleasurable for them both, she could make Natsuki want it, make her beg for more. Time slowed. Natsuki's actions became sluggish while she watched. Shizuru could sense the slow rise and slump of veins at various junctures on the dark-haired Oread's body: neck, wrist, thigh. All was wreathed in silken skin, warm and rosy. Shizuru wanted to run her hand over that velvety flesh, to feel the fine hairs of Natsuki's neck tickle her cheek, allow the curves of Natsuki's body press into her own, fastened and fitted together like a many-jointed blacksmith's puzzle.

Thick as Natsuki sometimes could be, the quick dart of Shizuru's tongue wetting her trembling lips and her shift in breathing pace did not escape her notice. Slowly, so as not to startle the woman or, heaven forbid, goad her into a chase as though she were some sort of stalking predator, Natsuki made her way to the exit, "Good Night, Shizuru."

"Good Night, Natsuki," Shizuru croaked, posture stiff in the high-backed chair, gaze still locked onto that retreating form, "Sleep well."

The words purred out like a smoky caress. Natsuki shivered. She wasn't sure she liked the way Shizuru had spoken her name, rolling it off the tongue as though savouring it, as though yearning, aching to savour more. Opening the door, she slipped from the room and was escorted to her own chambers, but all through the night, as she turned in restless repose upon the large bed, she could not rid herself of the feeling of those eyes tracing a scalding trail across her form.

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**(1) **_**Csejte vára - **_**Hungarian - This is the name of Erzsebet Bathory's castle. You will often see the spelling Čachtice, as well. It is located in modern day Slovakia, just north of present Hungary. Remember, Hungary was not always so small. It was not until the Treaty of Trianon in 1920 that Hungary was partitioned and reduced to the size it is today.**

**What a ravenous little vampire Shizuru is, ne? More of Shizuru's life will be slowly unveiled throughout this tale, this was just a snippet to fill in the timeline. This way, Shizuru was living her undead-life for a few centuries before Haruka supposedly 'killed' her.**


	9. Chapter 9

**I apologize if this chapter seems a bit scattered. I was a bit tipsy when I wrote it...Cut me some slack, people. It's a Friday night! What do you expect from a poor university student? :P**

**Enjoy!**  
**Disclaimer: MaiHIME is not mine.**

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A gentle hand brushed aside a stray flaxen lock from Shizuru's brow, tucking it behind her small, round ear. Her mother was nothing more than a shadowy silhouette, face obscured in darkness that flushed her entire person. Shizuru was but a child, dressed like an adult in a frilly dress of white satin. The long curls of her hair tangled down her back, full and thick like pale molasses, tied back only by a red ribbon her mother had bound whilst serenading the young girl in her arms with a dulcet lullaby. Bright sunlight streamed through an open door behind her mother so that motes of glittering golden dust were held suspended in the castle air, aureoling the woman in a radiant halo. This was the only image of her mother Shizuru could remember, warm hand upon her cheek.

She had been born from a figure of darkness, a figure steadily disintegrating into shadowy pieces in the all-consuming, all-engulfing luminescence.

_Flicker._

Shizuru smiled kindly down at the tiny body trembling against her, small hands like velveteen fetters round her waist. Above, the sky was a brilliant, pale blue, enormous billowing clouds marching to the distant bulwarks of the rocky Carpathians. Gusty bellows of wind thrust across the grassy knoll their castle was perched precariously upon, snapping the red and white banners rising above the towers and toothy palisades. Hearing the noise, the horses hooked into the black-lacquered carriage balked, rearing up and straining at their yokes. Her daughter, frightened, had buried her face in the folds of Shizuru's blue silk dress with a muffled shriek.

"What's wrong, darling?" Shizuru's fingers combed through her daughter's long hair, hair a bewitching black like her father's, "Did the horses scare you?"

A teary sniffle and tiny nod was her response.

"There's nothing to be frightened about. Look!" Bending down and lifting her into her arms, Shizuru wiped tears from rubescent cheeks with her thumbs and approached the steeds.

One tossed its head, chestnut mane whipping in the wind, and snorted, pawing at the ground. The girl gasped, turning from the animal to hide in Shizuru's neck. Chuckling, Shizuru gently extricated her and took that small smooth hand in her own. Fingers overlapped, slowly, ever so slowly, she reached out with both their hands, murmuring softly, soothingly. A pleased nicker accompanied the contact of their palms high upon the horse's nose. Downy, silky skin was stroked by quivering fingers, fingers with clipped pinkish nails and little dimples at the knuckles and wrist. Stunned, face lighting up with a brilliant, beaming smile, her daughter looked back at her with wonder etched deeply into her young features.

For as long as she lived, Shizuru would never forget that image, the shape and proportions of her daughter's hand contrasted by the long, dark muzzle of a horse upon the windy plains of her family estate.

_Flicker_.

Sobbing wracked her body.

Shizuru wept into the shoulder of her daughter's still limbs. They laid together in a curtained room devoid of sunlight, dark and musty with the scent of sickness and rain. Rich maroon and purple sheets were in stark contrast to the tiny white figure and the bed was far too large for her. Shizuru had ordered her daughter to be placed into her own bed so that they might sleep together while she was recuperating.

The physicians said that it was nothing. Just a summer chill, they told her.

The physicians lied.

Grayish bruising cloaked her daughter's skin, dark and coloured with plague. Her delicate features were gilded in the soft light of a single candle upon the heavy mahogany night-stand beside the four-poster bed, draped with thick red wool. Shizuru planted a shivering kiss to that smooth, porcelain cheek. Clutching her daughter to her, she rocked, overcome by boundless lamentation. Her fingers dug into the cooling flesh of her daughter's back and sides.

"Shizuru..."

"No...Please, Ferenc..."

Her husband stood beside the bed, looking on the scene with an expression of deep sorrow, though he shed no tears himself. His tanned face bore lines from years of living and his black eyes glittered, framed by dark rings accumulated from days of sleeplessness. He had seen more wars than most, yet Shizuru had never known him to look so haggard, so miserable.

His broad, scarred hand rested on her back in a vain endeavor to dispel her despair and instill her with comfort. She shrugged it off and held the body to her more tightly.

"Shizuru...They need to burn the body."

She choked on her tears, "Just...Just a moment longer...While she's still warm...Please..." Her voice cracked, and she hid her face from view.

Feeling her daughter being pried from her grasp, her desperation mounted. No longer was it only her husband, but her ladies-in-waiting and servants of the house, all with their hair unbound in mourning. Shizuru's golden locks still remained tightly bound beneath her pearl-studded, squarish cap.

"Not yet!" she begged, clinging to the girl, "I-! I can't! Not yet! No! Ferenc! Don't-! Please-!" She no longer knew what she was saying. Anything. Anything to prolong the minutes, the seconds she could continue thinking her daughter had not yet departed this world, snatched from her arms into the realm of Dis. This must be how Demeter felt. Such roiling sensations! Such insufferable suffering!

"_Once in the halls she walked and she was war: angel of war angel of agony, lighting men to death..." (1)_

Thus began her descent.

_Flicker_.

A lithe, voluptuous figure strolled, proud and strong through the crowd. It stood out like a sore thumb, protruding from the masses with a sort of wild abandon Shizuru had never seen before. Rebellion. Utter satisfaction. Lawless passion. All of it whispered in the fluent surety of her steps, in her direct stare and uncompromising shoulders, squarely set, uncompromising and unforgiving.

The ball swept along in a swaying fervour. Partners swirled in perpetual dance across the tawny marble floor whence towering pillars of painted purples and blues shot up into the air, supporting the lofty ceiling far above. It was a masterful piece of architecture, this Viennese mansion, though it could not compare in any sense to the woman stalking with proud strides through the tralatitious crowd. All else faded away in the wake of such devastating pulchritude.

A noble chattered in Shizuru's ear as she watched the woman. She ignored him as she observed, ruby eyes fixed upon that pliant form, his inane words falling upon her senseless ears, though in truth she had only been showing him respectful scrutiny out of his station; he was a Duke of her neighboring country, after all.

Now, however, she cut him off mid-homily, "Who is that?"

"What, m'dear?" his beady eyes within that fleshy face flicked over to that singular creature within the masses, and he replied, "Ahh...I see you, like so many others, have taken note of our dear Nina."

"Nina..." Shizuru murmured.

She sat upon a table above the proceedings beyond, making her a member if not of the elite than of the influential. Hers was a relatively new family in terms of power across her own borders and extending into Vienna, yet the ruling league there grudgingly welcomed her and her kind among their ranks. Great and wooden, the lengthy table stood, low and heavy upon a raised dais. Gold and silver platters bore heaps of food, mainly sea-dishes-whole fish with gaping mouths and milky staring eyes, still pink from the flames upon which they had been cooked-but Shizuru ignored them. Even in life she had not been one for excessive eating habits and, in fact, she was quite sparse in her repasts.

"Introduce me," she ordered, not taking her eyes off of the form which had stopped momentarily to regale a group of strutting courtiers and suitors, all dressed like peacocks blatantly attracting a mate with a their fanning array of colours.

Frowning, the noble nonetheless nodded and replied, "Of course, Countess."

_Flicker._

Ecstasy.

That was the only word to describe her state of being. Ecstasy.

A hot, insistent tongue rasped against her, making her tremble and gasp. Fingers thrust within her, begging her to writhe and buck her hips in response. Never before had Shizuru experienced such sensations and she wished for them to never end. Moans escaped her in spite of her best efforts to contain them. Her fingers coiled in that wealth of black hair, holding that head closer. With a groan, her pale, taut thighs trembled and at the beckoning of those rhythmic motions she felt her body convulse in sweetest release.

Shizuru's bedroom was filled with the sound of gasps and slick, heavy breathing. She felt the body of her lover rise and travel up her own and she met that roving mouth with a passionate kiss. Trembling, she held the tautly muscled form to her and detached from that tender, pouting mouth to plant a kiss upon silky black locks.

"Nina..." she whispered into the other woman's hair and felt an answering kiss upon her revealed neck.

Between the delicate nips and grazing of lips upon Shizuru's neck, Nina murmured, "Shizuru..." _Nip. Lick. Kiss_. "I love you..."

Warmth, unbearable, delicate warmth, filled her until she felt she would melt into a blissful oblivion. Shizuru was sure she would never know feelings such as this again in her lifetime.

_Flicker._

Drip.

Shizuru soaked in an enormous stone basin carved into the floor of her dungeon. The large, blocky stones bore signs of age. Torches hung from their water-stained facades. Rust from the iron fixtures bled into the surrounding grey stone until the walls themselves seemed to be weeping bloody tears.

Drip.

The limestone floor was heated from beneath so that her bath kept its original temperature. Warmth spread through her, steeping her earthly limbs in an eternal serum of rejuvenation. From above, a body hung, suspending in the deathly embrace of a metal maiden with arms of impaling spears. Skewered, it no longer made noise, though the dungeon had previously resounded with its shrieks. Countless others littered the wide expanse of floor around her in heaping mounds, arms and legs sprawled across one another in limp strands.

Shizuru raised a leg from the dark, red liquid in which she soaked, eyeing the shape and musculature of her calf with appraisal. She seemed completely unaffected by the surrounding carnage.

Drip.

The dead circled her, encircled her. And she lay among their ranks, lounging, like a deity of Death itself.

_Flicker_.

The land beyond her castle walls were lit up with waving torches and accumulated weapons. The sky beyond was a black streaked with grey clouds dyed a dark lilac. The Carpathians struck a jagged line across the night sky like dark sentinels to her approaching doom. Howls from the fields beyond passed through the walls of _Csejte vára_, howls for her blood, howls for the destruction of this Deity of Death.

_If only_, she thought, _If only..._

Shizuru sat, perched upon the sill of a window high upon her tower, a window no more than a slit designed to guard against attacking projectiles. Arrows whizzed over the castle walls and flaming flickers of light could be seen, hurled at the heavy fortifications surrounding her fortress.

_What fools._

Her hair bunched slightly at the base of her neck as she leaned back into the stone frame of the window, autumn moonlight, pregnant and gibbous, the only source of light. No others were left alive within her estate. Bodies cluttered the lawn outside, deposited in careless assemblage upon various pieces of furniture. They clustered the knife-riddled kitchens and amassed within the narrow halls. At a loss for places to store them, Shizuru had even hoarded them beneath her bed. One arm could be seen, rolled from beneath her sheets, the blood collected in a quivering mass as its fingertips, thick and dark. She had ordered all mirrors to be carried from the vicinity, and, dutiful, her servants had attended to her wishes with alacrity. All that remained was a hand-held device, oval and ornate, with but a few slivers of reflecting material jutting from the rims like jagged teeth. This piece lay near her, though she refrained from regarding her cursed reflection.

Shizuru felt a presence enter the dark room, rank with power and unprecedented certainty, "I was beginning to wonder when you would deign to show up, Haruka."

"I can't say I've been looking forward to this moment," was the response from the encroaching shadows. A woman emerged, vibrantly coloured features hidden in the enshrouding darkness though her eyes shone forth with a preternatural glow. In her grasp was a strange device, like a yardstick yet thicker and with a full head fashioned at its peak so that it resembled a war-hammer or a mace. She leaned upon it in the centre of the lightless room, looking like a marble Roman copy of a Greek Doryphoros cast in lustrous bronze.

At this, Shizuru felt a smile tug at her full lips. She did not look away from the view of the thoughtless hordes directly outside her walls. They pounded at the barred gates which splintered and groaned from the strain, "And yet, you are here."

"Only because it is my duty, Shizuru."

"Ah yes," she murmured, "You have always been one for duty, haven't you?"

To this, Haruka did not reply, "Tell me, Shizuru, what would you have your fate be?"

For a moment, all that could be heard were the cries of those outside. With a resounding crash, the heavy gates broke and were forced open. The masses streamed into the courtyard.

Until...

"I would wish for death."

There was no doubt in her solemn words. Shizuru was broken. After centuries of fraying, of slowly losing herself to the darkness within, she wanted nothing more than the cool embrace of Thanatos.

"Kill me."

Haruka sighed, "Alas, that wish is not within my power to grant. But..." Shizuru regarded the streaming flow of an angry mob, pellucid and unreachable as the moon, "I can offer you something else."

"What?" Her voice was flat, emotionless.

"Eternal slumber. None will disturb you as long as you are as you are now. This I swear to you."

Pounding sounded at her castle doors like drums in the deep, urged on by the fervent flickering of fiery torches, "You...can promise me this?"

Twirling the heavy measuring tool between her fingers as though it were made of straw, Haruki affirmed, "I can."

There reigned between them a pause as footsteps, loud and malevolent, bruited up the winding staircases in search for the Blood Countess, for the Creature of Ecsed.

"Do you accept?"

"I do."

_Flicker._

In the present, long since abandoned by Natsuki to the merciless night, the night filled with loneliness and the cold insincerity of Mnemosyne, Shizuru stared into the dying embers of the fire. Occasionally, they flared to life, but their steady demise was inevitable. Shizuru watched and waited for the dawn.

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**(1) This quote is from Aeschylus: Agamemnon. A great play, if you haven't read it!**

**Hope y'alls liked it! Now, I'm off to sleep. It's been a long week...Urg. I'll update again in about four or five days and you'll finally see some more action.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Salvete, omnes! I finished three out of four papers and finally found time to finish up this chapter. Thanks so much for your reviews on the last chapter, though I know that the site was acting up o.O Alas! What are we mere mortals to do but pray to the gods of the Ubiquitous Uncontrollable Universe, ie. the World-Wide-Web? (That's from Amy Tam, by the way. She can be very amusing, sometimes).**

**Anyway...Enjoy!**  
**Disclaimer: MaiHIME is not mine**

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Yellow police lines shuddered beneath the pattering rain. All was gray but for the vibrant neon blockade. The skies boiled with precipitation. The alternatively paved and cobblestone streets bore deep puddles that seemed to leap from the earth due to the force of the downpour. The walls of stone buildings were stained darker in large arcs, glaucopous as the gaze of Athene. (1). They loomed over a narrow space between them, casting a shadow over a figure sprawled across it and the officers clustered around it.

Painted lips pursed around the white cylinder of a cigarette. Cheeks sank inwards as lungs drew in and a manicured hand reached up, two fingers pulling the cigarette away. Smoke drifted in front of Nao's face as she exhaled, curling in thin tendrils before dissipating into the damp atmosphere. She stood over the body, ignoring the rain. That morning she had predictably forgotten her umbrella. At first, it had irked her, having to live in this sodden country, away from her native France. Irked? No, it infuriated her. The British had no sense of taste-their people were as gray and unadorned as their miserable little island. Nao yearned for the violet fields of Provence, the towering spires of Reims in all their crowning glory, the sparkle of parisiennes in their natural habitat, lunching for hours beneath the shelters of sun-beaten awnings. (2). But instead, she was here. Here, examining yet another dead body, lazily puffing on a cigarette.

"Morning, Nao!"

She didn't turn or even acknowledge the voice which hailed her. What was it with these people, she wondered acridly, that made them so unbearably cheery at the most ungodly of hours? She would never understand it.

Her partner, Takeda, came up beside her, smiling broadly. The only thing she and her partner had in common were their clothes. Identical, double-breasted black suits, dark gray button-up shirts beneath and narrow green silk ties bearing a black sunburst. Takeda's dark brown hair was gelled into spikes and he had a scar upon his left cheek. Nao had never asked how he had come across such an adornment, but then again she didn't really care. His shoes were scuffed, she noticed. Her own leather shoes had been buffed to a dull shine.

"Here."

She arched an eyebrow at him as he held out a spare umbrella; his own was open and protecting him from the rain. Grunting in thanks, she took it and snapped it open, deftly maneuvering the cigarette between her fingers as she did so.

"So," he asked, "What do we got today?"

Raising the cigarette to her lips again, she puffed away then answered, "Female. Age: Seventeen. Caucasian. Exsanguinated." Her voice carried only a hint of her origins, and her pronunciation and command of the English language was superb.

"Sounds pretty typical," he observed the body, the clean slash across her neck, the brightly coloured rain-coat, "We should be able to wrap this up in no time."

Nao flicked ash from the end of the cigarette, "There are some...oddities."

He frowned, "Like what? Look at her," Takeda gestured, careful to keep his arm from the rain, "Drained. Dumped. It's a Fang. Let's ship her off to Yohko and catch the bastard that did this."

Glaring, she tossed the white stub to her feet and ground it to a pulpy mass of tobacco with her heel. Immediately, she fished out another from a pack in her breast pocket and stuck it between her teeth, "I _have_ been looking, Masashi. And I've got a weird feeling about this one."

As she searched unsuccessfully through her pockets for matches, he shook his head and withdrew a cheap plastic lighter, "Feeling? I didn't know you had feelings, Nao." He teased, a flame jumping to life as his thumb expertly flicked the lighter.

She lit her cigarette and blew smoke in his grinning face, "No matter how long I've worked with you," she growled, "Your humour never seems to improve. Look at her hand, smartass."

Crouching, he peered at it and shrugged, "It's a very nice hand, I suppose. Was she a model for rings, like what you see on the telly?"

"The _other_ one."

"Wha-? Oh..."

His dark face screwed up in a contemplative scowl. Where there was once a hand there now remained only a bloody stump. Pale bone peaked out from the wrist, though there was no blood pooling around the wound. Takeda stood and scrubbed at the back of his head. as he did so the cuffs of his shirt peeled back slightly to reveal a flat, rectangular object strapped to his forearm. Nao didn't think twice about it. she couldn't count the number of times he'd whipped his wrist and a narrow katana unfolded in his hand, the steely, lightweight metal emanating an orange-red light at even integrals the heat of which could sear through bone and sinew as if it were fog. More than one Fang had met its maker at the edge of that blade.

"Well, what do you think it was, then?"

Nao jerked her head for Takeda to follow her around the body. Her shoe plunged suddenly into a puddle that she had mistaken for being more shallow than it actually was and she hissed a profanity in French, _"Fils de pute!"_ shaking off the offending limb like a disgusted cat. (3). When she stepped back down again, her cold foot squished unpleasantly. Together they knelt at the corpse's side, careful not to touch the body. Nao pointed at the wound, "Clean cut. Surgical in precision. This was post-mortem and executed with great care. What would a Fang want with a right hand? They normally don't horde body parts."

"Are you sure she wasn't tied up somewhere and cut off her own hand to escape?" Rain tumbled over the polyester brims of their umbrellas, adding to the already soaked garb of the victim, "They've been known to keep their food chained up for further use and entertainment."

Shaking her head, Nao drew deeply upon the cylinder, its embrous end slowly creeping toward her fingers, "There's no sign of bruising or other kinds of abuse. This was a quick, clean kill. Professional."

"Vampire-doctor preys upon a patient?" he supplied, only to have his theory shot down once more.

"What if," Nao began slowly, the small frown that perpetually adorned her features deepening, "What if this wasn't a vampire at all?"

"A human? Completely drain a victim?" his question held a hint of incredulity.

"It wouldn't be the first time."

He rose, "The majority of cases like that almost always have a serial killer as the culprit. There's no indication that this is linked to any other case. There haven't been any instances seen like this in nearly ten, maybe twenty years. And if this is so meticulous, as is evident, I agree with you on that part at least, wouldn't this murder be the result of years of similar situations?"

"How the hell should I know?" Nao growled, shooting daggers at him from beneath the brim of her, well..._his_ umbrella, "It's just a feeling, Masashi. All I meant by it was that we should proceed with caution. Keep our minds open," she stood and stumped out another finished cigarette, "This just seems...different."

As she groped for her steadily depleting packet of cigarettes, Takeda's mouth turned down, "You shouldn't smoke so much, Nao."

The white cylinder bobbed as she mumbled around it, "Shut up and give me your lighter."

"And if I don't?"

Her pale eyes bore into his own like awls, "I'll castrate you."

After a moment's consideration, Takeda shrugged, "Fair enough."

He gave her the lighter.

"Excuse me! _Excuse me!_" A police officer who had just arrived on the scene ducked beneath the neon lines and was accosting them as he stomped over. Round glasses flashed on his large, hooked nose and his graying hair was slicked down to his head from the rain, "Who the hell are you two and why are you on my site?"

With a low snarling mutter, Nao turned her back on him and allowed Takeda to handle the belligerent policeman. She was never very good with these sorts of things; people always tended to rub her the wrong way and she didn't care to soften her razor-sharp tongue in response. The result was generally sharp words and, on some occasions, violence. If the latter was achieved, the situation became very messy very quickly. More than once, Midori had put Nao on probation and, as further punishment, made her review old case-files and tapes in the archives, which were strictly non-smoking.

Plastering a civil smile on his face, Takeda hailed the newcomer, "Good Morning, sir. Is there a problem?"

Jowls sagging on the man's wide face quivered and splotches of red started to appear on his cheeks, "I'll tell you what the problem is: unauthorized individuals strolling around my site like they own the damn place!"

"Ah, but you see," Takeda swiftly withdrew identification and flipped it open, "We have authorization."

The man's pale blue eyes narrowed at the ID upon which flecks of rain were beginning to accumulate, blurring Takeda's glossy photo and the faint official seal. The seal itself was an oddity: a blue and silver maiden with a drawn bow, stalking a winged hag upon a cross-roads during the encroaching dawn, all wreathed not in laurels but Cyprus branches. (4).

"Cynthian Division?" he asked, bushy eyebrows drawn down, "I want to speak with your superiors."

"But of course," a white business card appeared between Takeda's fingers and he handed it to the policeman.

Pulling out a phone and dialing, the man spoke, "Hello, this is Chief Carrol, I-" A sharp voice could be heard emanating from the earpiece and he straightened, "S-Sir! …...Yes. Yes...I understand. Sir." Looking stunned and slightly awed, he ended the call with a beep of his cell. Clearing his throat he began, "Er...I apologise for my earlier bluntness. You are to be given full access to this investigation and I am to offer help in any form you wish."

"That won't be necessary," Nao's words were abrupt and stinging. She had just run out of cigarettes and tossed the crumpled empty packet to the street. This problem (the cigarettes, not the murder) needed to be rectified. Soon. Or heads would roll. "Masashi, have the squints take the body to Sagisawa and meet me in the car. We're going to the drug-store."

"I was hoping we could go to lunch first. I'm starving."

"After."

"But-"

"After!" she barked and stomped off towards her car, glinting sleek and black in the rain, her sock squelching with every step, cursing to herself in French.

* * *

"Good evening, Countess."

Shizuru nodded politely in return to the greeting Midori had given her as she entered the room. An automatic steel door slid shut behind her and crimson eyes watched it do so, appraising, "I really do admire the technological advances that have been made while I was away. It is quite..." she thought for a moment, "Handy. That is the proper expression, yes?"

Midori forced herself to smile, "Yes. I'm glad to see that you've become so familiar with English."

At this, Shizuru's mouth turned down slightly in disgust, "It is a most barbaric tongue. Though its expressions at times can be quaint." She let out a small chuckle, "Such as, 'to wear one's heart on one's sleeve'. Your Shakespeare was very witty. A pity I missed him." (5).

Somehow, the fact that she could have, indeed, very easily rubbed elbows with one of the most influential authors of the English language only seemed to enhance her inhumanity that much more. Midori shifted, but hid her discomfort by gesturing to a chair and invited Shizuru to sit. She, herself, sat at the head of a long glass conference table. In the centre was etched the Artemisian Seal and likewise a large navy-blue flag with the same seal stitched into it hung on the wall behind her, its thick material making it curve and curl in arched drapery, distorting the figures upon it so that it seemed the young huntress instead bore the head of a wretched hag, neck twisted as if broken, looking at the overshadowing Cyprus trees behind her in shrieking flight.

The room was very modern with its steel and glass accoutrements making it glint from every corner. As Shizuru glided over to the offered chair and sat, she thought that it was all so distant and harsh in appearance. Those of flesh and blood looked so out of place in this metallic plane. Where were the warm tapestries? The grainy stone walls and floors opulently carved? Indeed, despite her supernatural nature, Shizuru herself seemed the most natural and organic thing in the entire room. What with her rich red dress and luminous flaxen hair, movements fluid as Simois before being clogged with the refuse of the lion-hearted son of Peleus. The contrast only further enhanced her sensuality.

As she moved further into the room, her nine guards trotted in after her and stood around the table, alert.

"Really, Artemis," Shizuru looked over her shoulder at the nine guards lining the room, "Is this necessary?"

"Simply a precaution," Midori smiled.

"A precaution that can not allow me to _bathe_ in peace?"

Midori frowned, "They followed you into the bathroom? That was not in their orders."

Shizuru sniffed, "Perhaps not, but the optical devices strategically placed around my quarters have not escaped my attention."

The Cynthian Leader didn't even have the grace to look chagrined, "Ah. So you've noticed the cameras." She shot a glare at Mai, standing at her side, who shifted uncomfortably and determinedly did not meet her gaze. Apparently, Mai had not hidden them well enough.

"They are difficult to miss," Shizuru replied dryly.

"You'll have to forgive me," she showed a strained smile in a kind of endeavor to show amicability, "Old habits die hard."

Seeing the tension in the other woman, Shizuru could not help but chortle inwardly. My, my! But she could have fun with this! "Of course. I understand." She opened her arms in a regal gesture and said, "Shall we begin?"

Midori nodded sharply, arms crossing defensively beneath her breasts, "Yes. Mai?"

Mai pressed a button on a wafer-thin black remote in her hands. The lights dimmed and the centre of the glass table slowly parted. Rising from it was a screen that flashed to life, revealing a map of Europe.

"These are the Three Kingdoms," Midori began. Thick black lines ran across the map, and the spaces between shaded into different colours. Blue covered Spain, France, Belgium, the Netherlands, England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Iceland, Norway, Sweden and even bled into Finland. Green spread across Portugal, Italy, the line ran jagged through Germany and Switzerland, clashing with blue borders but became smooth once more beneath Hungary and Romania, effectively taking over the Balkans and a large chunk of Western Turkey and North Africa, including Egypt, strands of Libya, Tunisia and Morocco. The rest was Red, extending as far as Murmansk in the North and stopping at the Caspian Sea and the Ural mountains to the East.

"Blue is Árpádok. Green Medveczky and Red Rákóczi. Each of the Elders live in their own capital, issuing orders from the main cities of their Kingdoms. Kanzaki in Budapest. Graceburt in Rome. And Tate conveniently in London." As she spoke, each of the cities lit up, creating an oblique triangle between the three.

Here, Shizuru spoke, engrossed in the glowing screen, "I can not imagine the barracks being in the cities. There are too many people."

"I was getting to that," Midori gestured to Mai and more dots appeared on the screen, nearly four of them in each Kingdom, "These mark the barracks. As you can see, they are situated in rural areas so as not to attract attention and on top of that they are underground. Sunlight," she added, glancing at Shizuru to gauge her reaction, "is no friend of your kind."

Shizuru's expression remained impassive, giving away nothing, "So I've noticed."

Clearing her throat, Midori continued, a bit disgruntled that Viola had made no indication of her thoughts. Not that she had really expected her to be an easy person to read. Person being a relative term, "As of now, however, the barracks aren't our concern."

Mai pressed another button and the map zoomed into London, giving an aerial view of Parliament, "This is."

Crossing her legs beneath the table so that the folds of her dress bunched elegantly around her calves, Shizuru spoke, "Tate's lair, I presume?" Her emphasis on the word 'lair' implied sarcasm, which did not go unnoticed by either Midori or Mai.

"The years have had no effect on your mind, I see." Was Midori's equally as facetious retort.

"Astonishing, I'm sure."

Midori knew she shouldn't laugh, shouldn't enjoy her banter with the Creature of Ecsed, but a low chuckle escaped in spite of herself, "In any case," she moved on, "I'll keep this as brief as possible for now. Simply said, we infiltrate the Court with you, dethrone Tate and instate you. The Aristocracy should be willing to follow you without much trouble and with us at your side, well..."

"Hmm...Yes..." Shizuru murmured, tapping her lower lip thoughtfully with one finger, "It would seem as though I had subdued you. Their long time enemy," she mused with a smile, eyeing Midori askance, "brought to heel by the infamous Blood Countess." She watched as the Cynthian leader's brow twitched with every word she said, "You have judged my kind well. If nothing else, they respect a display of power. Bold of you. Very bold."

Mai was biting the inside of her cheek to keep from retorting sharply and Mai's face was purpling with anger, "I...suppose you could think of it that way..." Midori said slowly, biting off the words as if not believing what she was saying.

"But the real question would be: To what end?" That golden head tilted as she observed their reactions with increasing delight, "You would give me control of an established Kingdom with a Court and an army at my disposal? Why?"

Breathing deeply to steady herself, Midori replied, "I would have you rule all of the Kingdoms."

At this, Shizuru's eyebrows threatened to vanish into her hairline and her amusement evaporated like ethanol in the sun. She sat back in her chair, scarlet eyes glowing faintly through the shadows, "I must confess myself surprised, Artemis. Me? Returned to absolute power? Isn't that the situation you want _least_?"

"I have it on good authority that you will cooperate," she said enigmatically, meeting Shizuru's gaze without flinching, "Besides," she continued, "Isn't that what _you_ want? Order in the world once more? A recovery of your kind as the elite few?" Midori leaned forward, elbow upon the table, the light from the screen illuminating her face until it shone, "The Earth is not meant to accommodate so many of you, and you know it."

Silence.

The two endured a staring match for a few moments. The air between them seemed to physically thicken. A flickering from the screen made shadows dance throughout the room, alighting upon the flag in the background until it seemed that little ghostly shades capered among the morbid scene to the whirring hum of electronics like Bacchae to the chanting drone of their frenzied god.

"I shall think upon it."

As Shizuru stood, Mai let out an audible breath of air. Pressing the remote, the lights burst to life once more, flooding the place with an artificial glow and washing out the occupants so that they resembled the paling shades of Acheron swamping towards bloody slaughter.

"If you will please excuse me," nodding that aureate head, Shizuru turned to leave.

Before she could go, though, Mai queried, "I don't mean to be rude, but where are you going to?"

She paused at the door, which had already hissed open, and a slow, dangerous smile spread across her features, "Why, to find Natsuki, of course." And with that, she swept from the room, her ubiquitous guards following close behind.

All was silent until Shizuru had fully departed and, feeling safe to speak her mind at last, Mai stated, "I don't like how she's always after Natsuki."

Midori sank into her chair with a sigh, "What would you have me do? Say no and risk being dismembered?"

"Why do we tolerate her at all?" Mai's hand stroked the barrel of her rifle unconsciously, her eyes still were locked on the closed door Shizuru had exited moments ago, "Why is she still alive?" Midori did not answer and Mai's temper, her want as a soldier to protect her men when she knew they were in imminent danger, got the best of her. At least, that's what she told herself it was, "She's the beginning, the source of it all! All our troubles for all these years! If we kill her, who knows what could happen!" Her hand suddenly clenched from her vehemence, and a sort of fanaticism could be seen lingering about her, shining through the normal composure gained from years of training, "It could be the end of vampires!"

Eyes flashing, Midori growled, head leaning upon her arm propped up on the chair, "Yes. Who knows what could happen. We could succeed and end it all, or we could fail and suffer the eternal wrath of the most powerful, supernatural creature this world has ever known. So go, if you like," she waved the District Officer away, pointing to the door, "Risk killing us all because of your haste, your thirst for vengeance."

At this, Mai froze. Her conviction began to falter, "I...That's not-"

"Shizuru created Kanzaki," Midori snapped, "but Shizuru is _not_ Kanzaki. You're always so hasty! Don't be so quick to leap for your gun for your own retribution when it's _everyone_ who will pay the price for your foolish actions!" Seeing the pained and crestfallen expression on Mai's face, knowing that she was reliving the most terrifying experiences of her life as soon as Kanzaki's name was mentioned, Midori's face softened. Leaning back with a sigh, chair creaking, she added with less severity, "We've all lost something, Mai. Don't forget that. It's the only thing that keeps us here, together, working against them."

"I know," came the whispered reply. Mai drew in a shaken breath, running a hand through her bright, flame-coloured hair, "I know..."  
Midori allowed her officer time to recover from the ravages of memory for but a moment before asking, commanding and inquisitive once more, "Tell me about her."

Frowning, Mai asked, "Who? Natsuki?"

"Obviously," was the dry retort.

"Hmm..." she leaned upon the table, lifting up one leg while leaving the other supporting half her weight upon the ground. The plates of her armour scrapped against one another but did not chafe due to the thick synthetic material clinging to her entire body like an extra skin, "She's...cold."

"Cold?" Midori planted her feet upon the table as was her habit.

"Mmm," she made an affirmative noise, "I've known her for nearly two years now, and she's only just started feeling comfortable enough to joke around with me." With a grunted laugh, she admitted, "Hell, I've only seen her smile once or twice."

"She seemed to smile just fine if the tapes of her interactions with you in Viola's room are any indication."

Mai shook her head, eyes fixed on the wall as though looking past them at a rare image, "No. I mean really smile..."

"Hmmph." Midori searched her pockets and pulled out a lollipop. The woman seemed to have an endless supply of hard candies stashed away on her person. Peeling back the red and white wrapper, she said, "So she takes a while to warm up. Good to know." She stuck the round sugary end into her mouth and crossed her arms over her head, rolling the sweet in her mouth contentedly, "What about her love life?"

Mai snorted, "What love life?"

"Do you know her sexual preferences? Men? Women?"

Mai laughed, propping herself on the table with one hand and shifting her rifle around her shoulder to do so more comfortably, "What? Women? God, no! I mean..."

"But you can't say for sure?"

The Officer hesitated, "Well...No. I can't."

"And you don't know her type?"

Shaking her head, confused, and frowning with a small if rather uncomfortable smile, Mai asked, "Why does that even matter?"

With a moist sucking noise, Midori retracted the lollipop and used it to point at the door, "Because, in case you haven't noticed, Viola has taken an interest in her."

"Yea. As food. Not as a..." she waved her free hand vaguely, searching for an amorphous term, "_Partner_." She finally settled on the ambiguous tag.

Mai caught Midori's look that said, _Don't be thick, _"Oh, come on! There's no way!"

Shrugging, the Cynthian leader stuck the treat back in her mouth, "If you say so." Her expression, however, was far from admitting defeat on the matter.

Silence fell between them as Mai's mind stirred, the thought of a temptress Viola seducing the cool, proud Natsuki steadily seeming more and more plausible. She could just see it happening. Viola had all the time in the world and surely anyone would crack if exposed to that withering attention for an extended period of time, even Natsuki.

"Shit..." Growling the curse, Mai leaped to her feet and stormed after Viola. Only a fraction of probability may have been present, but she'd be damned if she let her friend fall to the wiles of that demon without a fight.

The automatic door slid shut behind the officer and Midori sighed resignedly around her lollipop, still in her relaxed pose, expression almost bored, "Like I said. Hasty."

* * *

**(1) glaucopous: This is an English derivative of the Greek 'glaukopis' meaning "grey-eyed" or "doe-eyed". It was a popular epithet for Athena along with 'Parthenos' and 'Nike', etc.**

**(2) Reims...crowning glory: Haha! Sorry. I just had to put this one in there. Reims was the Cathedral where French monarchs were once crowned. Hence the awful pun.**

**(3) **_**Fils de pute:**_** French. Lit: "Son of a whore."**

**(4) The Artemisian Seal: I put a bit of thought into this. The maiden is, of course, Artemis. She and Hecate are often associated with crossroads and magic and death. Specifically with Artemis, the death of young virgin girls. (If we can all recall when Agamemnon sacrificed his daughter, Iphigenia, so that his fleet could sail for Ilium, which god did he sacrifice her to? That's right. Artemis). This is an aspect of her most people don't know about. She had some rather unsavoury qualities and myths about her generated by the many cults surrounding her, most notably the "Taurian Artemis," which involved many mystical and orgiastic aspects as well as some connected to human sacrifice. There were, of course, many different facets and personas of this goddess such as the Eleusinian Artemis, Brauronian Artemis, Britomartis, Dictynna, and Eileithyia. If you wish to know more about her, check out this site. It's really quite good and, if any of you so wish, can, in fact, be used as a reference for initial research at the collegiate level. www. theoi. com However, I would recommend as a more established source the Oxford Classical Dictionary (or OCD as we classicists fondly refer to it), or the latest edition of the book on classical mythology by Morford and Lenardon. (Oh! And FUN FACT: The Temple of Artemis at Ephesus is the largest recorded temple in the ancient world. Seriously. This thing was huge. Imagine a football field made of marble columns. Pliny tells us that it's dimension were 425x225x60 ft. length. width. height. The Parthenon, which you can still see in Athens on the Akropolis, is only 230x100x45 ft.)**

**Ahem. (clears throat). As I was saying. The Cyprus was the plant associated with Artemis. It was also one of the plants associated with funerals in the ancient world. Hell, it still is. Go to any graveyard in the Western world and I bet you'll find Cyprus trees growing all over the place. For real. Check that out next time you're at one, or even if you're just passing by. Classics lives on! FOR THE GLORY OF ROME!**

**(5): To wear one's heart upon one's sleeve: from Othello. Said by Iago.**

**Ok. Lecture over. Class dismissed.**


	11. Chapter 11

**So, I was re-reading some stuff and saw that Natsuki was a Leo. "How coincidental!" I thought, "So am I!" Upon further investigation, I discovered that not only are we both Leos, we share the same birthday. No joke. That made me almost as happy as when I found out that Napoleon Bonaparte and I ALSO share the same birthday.**

**Needless to say, I feel awesome.**

**Moving along! My dear Crosswood won the little challenge I put at the end of the last chapter. The old hag in the Artemisian Seal is, in fact, one of the Keres (or "Ker" for singular). These are Greek death deities that haunted battlefields, snatched souls into Hades, and enjoyed nothing more than to feast upon the blood of the fallen.**

**Now I just have to think of a prize for Crossy...Hmm...Decisions, decisions...**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: MaiHIME is not mine.**

* * *

Books of every colour, texture and variety filed all along the towering walls, walls lined with long French windows that allowed in faux sunlight. Phaesporia was, ironically like its vampiric counterparts, situated underground so as not to attract attention. What lay on the outside, however, was not Shizuru's present concern. Gliding into the room, she admired the many tomes both antiquated and contemporary. There lingered in the air that certain mustiness, the downy coverlet of dust over preserved pages, that cool smell of knowledge hoarded with draconian fervour. Shizuru had seen the magnificent libraries of Constantinople, of Vienna and Antioch, but in regard to sheer size and volume, the Artemisian Library outstripped them all by far.

Lustrous oak encased the numerous books and in some older cases thick glass protected its contents. Thickly carved staircases wound their way upward like broad vines to every floor and even to the very ceiling where an ambulatory rim ran along its edge. Decorative pillars beneath the high walkway were caryatids in the form of the ten Sibyls of antiquity, facades alternately calm and swept into ecstatic frenzy (1). A painted fresco, well-lit, warmed the ceiling and further opened the room as though to the heavens. There, a strange and ethereal scene unfolded. The creation of the universe and its primordial entities bestrew the artistic space allotted. Aether and Hemera enfolded all in a saffron shroud through which Nemesis and Moros contested and Epiphron looked on with cunning calculation. Wailing Deceit and raving Strife clawed their faces and rent their flowing dresses in nameless lamentation. The laughter-loving Hesperides tended their wond'rous crops and danced among their lush garden of immortal pleasures. The three Erinyes hissed and spat from the sides, cursing and railing against their bonds, wishing to ravage the world of men once more. Not many Keres, but a single Ker was awash with blood, feasting mournfully upon fistfuls of souls, bloodied gaze rolling in exquisite agony, lay across the steps of a tall dais which led upward to a dark throne.

Held aloft by three women - impassive Moirae spinning, measuring, cutting, utterly absorbed in their task, their duty - the very legs of the royal seat, was a figure wrapped in a black toga. It was hunched over, one arm at its waist, the other slung across a thigh so that its white, delicate hand hung over its knee. Dark eyes glinted from beneath be-shadowed brows, ignoring the chaos milling about it and instead fixed upon any who walked beneath, level and weighing like a set of wrought-iron scales. It was the goddess Night, Nyx, mother of all. Two cherubims clung to her skirts, Eros and Thanatos, and behind her loomed her omnipresent caretaker: scythe-wielding Chronos. (2)

Shizuru looked away and continued her search.

Aside from the smell of books another familiar scent threaded its way through the air. She had followed it directly to this place and, sure enough, she could see a dark head bowed over a book upon the second floor. Eyes fixed upon the back of Natsuki's head, Shizuru quickly ascended the first flight of stairs to her right, keeping her pace normal enough for her "escort" to follow. If she were to have it her way, they would have waited outside so she could stealthily sneak up behind the girl (she so dearly wanted to see her reaction to such an approach), but instead they clamoured up the steps behind her, alerting Natsuki to her presence.

Seeing Shizuru, Natsuki snapped the book in her hands shut with alacrity and tried to hide it from view behind her jean-clad thigh. Shizuru may not have personally approached of pants and the very modern idea of women wearing them, but in this case she was willing to make an exception. The faded gray denim clung to her shapely legs, accentuating their length and muscled slenderness. A thin line of smooth skin peeked from between the low-slung waistline, the blue t-shirt and loose, white hoodie.

"Hello, Shizuru."

Ah! That voice! Perhaps she had merely been cooped-up too long in her grave, but that smoky voice did wonders to her body, "Good evening, Natsuki," she greeted in return, not stopping her steady advance, "What brings you to this wonderful library?"  
"Nothing, really," Natsuki shifted, trying to further conceal the book, "I just wanted a few books to read later tonight. Before bed. I've been pretty bored all day, so..." she shrugged, giving Shizuru a sheepish smile, "Purely for entertainment purposes."  
Stopping right in front of her, perhaps only two feet apart, Shizuru said, "Well, if Natsuki was so wrapped up in ennui she should have come to see me. I would have been more than happy to keep her company."

Confusion flitted across her face, "Mai told me you were sleeping during the day."

"Oh! So Natsuki was asking after me, was she?" Shizuru delighted in the blush her commend caused, flushing the girl's face, fast and fierce.

"N-No!" She blurt out defensively, "Th-That's not what I meant!"

Chuckling, Shizuru leaned gracefully upon the wooden banister, the sleeve of her red chiton falling over the crook of one elbow, "Next time, you needn't bother asking. My doors are open to you. Always."

"But-"

"I don't sleep. I haven't been able to do so properly since I became what I am," She tilted her head, appraising the dark circles beneath green eyes, "And neither it seems, did you last night."

Natsuki rubbed one of her eyes at the attention, slightly nervous at that piercing stare, "Yea, well...I can't sleep well in new places."

"What are you reading?" Switching the topic quickly, Shizuru intentionally caught her off guard and watched as she tried to conceal the fact that she was holding a book.

"What? Oh! Oh, you mean this?" She stuffed the book atop one of the many rows behind her as if hoping that would deter Shizuru from inquiring any further, "It's nothing."

Not bothering to press her further, Shizuru dashed forward. She could have easily gone around Natsuki, but where would be the fun in that? Instead, she reached past her, reveling in the closeness her actions caused. From here, she could feel the sharp intake of breath upon her cheek, see the tiny vessels at the corners of those emerald eyes. Snatching the book up before Natsuki could protest, she stepped back only far enough to put her guards at ease, who had raised their guns at her sudden movements.

"Forgive me," she apologized, perhaps a tad dryly, to them and turned her attention back to Natsuki, "Now, let's see what Natsuki has been trying so hard to hide from me, shall we?"

With a wicked smile, she brandished the book and opened it. The spine creaked as it fell open and the limp pages seemed to collapse upon themselves. That scarlet gaze darted across the page and Shizuru couldn't help but widen her smile. Oh, she was going to enjoy this! The situation was even more perfect than she could have imagined.

The book was a compilation and translation of the original Latin texts surrounding her very own trial and supposed "execution". She remembered it well: the ineffectual court filled with puerile personages, the slather of mortar as she was walled into her own tower, the only small window sealed shut, the orders her human guards had received to slide food through the small opening to her until the plate was no longer returned. Four years. Four miserable years she had lasted in such a condition until Haruka had finally come for her. She had nearly gone mad in that space of time; the swirling echoes of madness haunted her still, upon occasion, when all others had gone and she was left to her own painfully lonesome devices. Like the night before. (3)

But that was then. And this was now. And now, she was thoroughly enjoying herself. Time to forget the past, if only for a few brief minutes.

"If Natsuki wanted to know more about me," Shizuru purred, thrilled, "Then she need only ask."

The blush returned three-fold and Natsuki crossed her arms with a small huff, looking away and scowling, "I thought you didn't like 'revealing information to petty mortals', or something of the sort."

"True," Shizuru shut the tome and tapped it against her chin in a thoughtful manner, "But then you made it into a game," she shot Natsuki a smouldering look that had felled more suitors and prudish maidens in the past than she could count, "And I _love_ games."

Instead of the response she had been expecting, however, Natsuki sneered caustically, "I suppose I should've known. Is that all I am to you? A game?"

Shizuru, rather than be taken aback and allow Natsuki to gain the advantage in their exchange, put on a facade of false sobriety, "Of course not. You are far from a game to me, Natsuki. Although..." she leaned in closer and whispered suggestively, "There are many games I'd love to play _with _you."

At the resultant blush, a brilliant burst of flaming red that washed all the way down Natsuki's neck and even tinged her ears a shining pink, Shizuru couldn't contain herself any longer.

She laughed.

* * *

Mai stormed through the steel and chrome halls of Phaesporia. The blue and silver Artemisian Seal flashed from every automatic doorway. Stripes of blue and black ran all along the walls, marking in large white block letters the various sectors. Phaesporia bustled with people, as was only typical. People in armour. People in suits. People in lab coats. People in work-out clothes, still sweaty from recent exertions in the gyms. Each bore different colours with their sunburst insigniae, dictating their rank. Many snapped to attention as she strode by, but she ignored them. One person who should have saluted instead wound lazily through the crowd, red hair blazing almost as brightly as the lit cigarette hanging from her lips.

"Put out the cigarette, Nao."

The Operative exhaled as she passed, saying, "Blow me, Tokiha."

It was a near daily ritual they indulged in. The only person who dared to face Nao's wrath when it came to her smoking habits was Midori. Mai had long since given up actually trying to get the Operative to stop smoking in unauthorized areas, though she still said the words for good measure. The day Nao actually listened, though, was the day the Apocalypse was sure to come. In such a way they passed one another and kept on their own separate courses.

_Viola._

Teeth gritting, Mai continued. _Damn Midori. She better not be right. Damn Viola. Where the hell did she go? If she so much as touches Natsuki- No. If she so much as looks at her askance, I'll pull out my gun and shoot her in her non-existent, shriveled black heart. I'll - ! _

Still searching, she passed a large door labeled, "SECTOR VI". Freezing, Mai turned slowly. Hadn't Natsuki asked about the library earlier that day? They had eaten breakfast together, Natsuki still a bit sore from Mai's "betrayal" though she had lightened up significantly since the night before - nothing had been thrown, so Mai counted it as a success - and afterwards Natsuki had asked about books. Could she still be wandering around the library? God knows the girl spent enough time around books and old artifacts to put a researcher to shame. Maybe...

Mai backtracked and the double doors opened to allow her into the stunning library. Even if reading wasn't her thing, so to speak, she could still appreciate the artistry involved in the construction of the library - one of the few places that didn't feel cold and razor-sharp in the modern facilities of Phaesporia. Laughter, full and deep, issued from the second level to her right. Orange bangs brushed against her forehead as she whipped her gaze around and her lilac eyes widened.

She had seen Viola smile dangerously before, she'd heard her chuckle darkly, but never before had she seen Viola laughing. Laughing with such ease, such warmth. Head tossed slightly back, eyes closed, wrist turned so that the book she held rested gracefully upon her shoulder. Just as surprising was the person with whom she was speaking. Natsuki was red-faced and stammering, waving her fists in outrage as though she were going to hit Viola.

Natsuki.

Blushing.

And more. _Stammering_.

She had never seen her friend in such an obviously agitated state. This was a side of Natsuki she had never seen before. Normally, the university student was cool, mostly monosyllabic. Her display of fury the night before had raged like an ice-storm, as though a blizzard had issued from her frosty, evergreen eyes. Her words could have put out blazing infernos that ravaged the country-sides. Even in her frequent denials of those who pursued her she was never so..._flustered. _And now...Now she quite literally radiated heat.

Mai did not approve.

Starting forward, she swept up the stairs and as she approached, she heard the turn in their conversation.

"Now, now, Natsuki," Viola's voice was a seductive murmur after her laughter, "On to more serious matters."

"What...?" Natsuki queried cautiously, cheeks still tinged a rosy pink, not meeting the other woman's gaze.

"Have you bathed yet?"

Dark brows slanted down in a frown, "No. Why?"

Mai could hear the provocative grin in Viola's tone, "Well, seeing as how you helped me bathe the other day, I thought I might return the favour."

"_Wh-What?_" The stutter had returned, fully fledged alongside her furious blush.

Viola moved in closer for the kill, "Come now, Natsuki. I could wash your back..."

"_Sh-Shizuru!"_

Mai had had enough, "Natsuki!" she called, stomping forward. The nine guards snapped to attention as they suddenly noticed her presence. Viola slowly turned, face an impassive mask once more, though she did not look the least bit surprised to see Mai there. _Damn monster probably heard me coming a mile away..._ "Dinner. Let's go."

Nodding, Natsuki looked relieved to be getting away, yet as she passed Viola her forest-green eyes darted in Shizuru's direction almost as if before she could stop herself from doing so. Both Mai and Shizuru noticed.

"I shall call on you again tomorrow, Natsuki," Mai definitely didn't like the way Viola said her friend's name, nor the way those vermillion eyes tracked Natsuki's every step, every motion.

She merely nodded sharply in response. Mai turned to descend the stairs and Natsuki followed, only to hesitate and say over her shoulder, "Anna and Thomas."

"What's that, Natsuki?"

"The names of your children."

The Cynthian officer never thought she'd live to see Shizuru Viola, the Blood Countess, the Creature of Ecsed, look so completely unguarded, so nakedly stunned. The pain of a hundred lifetimes flashed across those sculpted features for but a moment until she managed to regain her calm composure once more. The mask had been ripped off for the second time in a single day to reveal a facet of Viola that Mai never knew could have existed. Although it was hastily donned once more, the anguish had settled in her liquid crimson gaze and would not dissipate immediately.

Shizuru cleared her throat, a soft noise, and said simply, "Thank you."

They left without another word.

As the doors to Sector VI slid shut behind them, both Mai and Natsuki were silent. They walked together towards the dining hall, engrossed in their own thoughts. Previously, Mai had concocted a vicious diatribe with which to give Natsuki a good tongue-lashing, but now she didn't have the heart to deliver it. Hell, she didn't remember half of it anymore. Something about, "_What the hell were you thinking?"_ And, _"Don't you know what she is capable of! Don't forget what she is! Not ever!"_

Still, what she had witnessed rankled in her chest. The last thing she wanted was for her best friend to get involved with a near-unstoppable killing-machine. If Viola made a move against Natsuki's will, then Mai would use that as an excuse to put Viola through a meat-grinder in a heartbeat. But, if Natsuki wanted it...If Natsuki was lured into initiating it...

No. Natsuki would never. But, how could she know for sure...?

They strode by Sector VII and Mai suddenly knew exactly what to do.

"Hey, Natsuki," That pale chin tilted down so she could better look at Mai, "How about we go to the shooting range tomorrow?"

* * *

A crash followed by a feral roar resounded throughout the vast, night-darkened halls.

Long shadows were cast from spindly pillars across the stone floors and aged, oak tiers and pulpits, gathering in the Gothic arches as though they were ornate, earthen nets. Musty, moth-eaten drapes, heavy and velvet, hung from the ceilings yet did not warm the space around them. All was a frigid, beige and brown wasteland of a palace. During the day, sunlight streamed through the tall windows, lighting the place up and warming it. But at night, it descended into something else entirely. A palace ruled by something malicious and unseen.

From deep within the bowels of the British Parliament the howl echoed, rebounding off of stone and antique tapestries all bearing the similar scene of St. George killing the dragon. His plated foot was stuck firm behind the curling serpent's neck, sword raised high overhead, caught in the moment of delivery. Within a low chamber, dry and dark, a broad dais bore a low-slung, heavily gilded curule chair, its feet twisted lion's heads biting globes. Female attendants, all human, lined the walls, wearing scant but sheer shifts that did nothing to conceal their obvious anatomy, hands at their sides, still and unmoving, awaiting their Lord's pleasure.

A single figure knelt before the throne. Presently, her animated twin-tailed hair lay dormant across her shoulders. She was clad in a frilly pink dress the folds of which only seemed to accentuate her girlish form, "My Lord, please see reason."

"_Reason?_" The man upon the gem-encrusted throne snarled, "My reason died with the three of my men in my very own city!" Even through the darkness, the many precious stones sewn into his rich attire could be seen glinting when he moved. It was enough to be considered gaudy even by the most flagrant of individuals in contemporary society, "_My city!_ Kanzaki and Graceburt have gone too far this time!"

"My Lord, we do not know if Kanzaki and Graceburt were a part of this-"

"SILENCE!" He screamed, hurling a lavish goblet at her. It missed, clattering to the floor, but a spray of warm, fresh blood managed to spatter her shoulder and a side of her face nonetheless, "I know they are behind this! They have been scheming together for years in the East! Ever since the death of my Creator! Jealous, covetous cowards!" His voice lowered to distant mumbles, mad ramblings. He shifted upon the throne, legs swinging indecorously over one side so that his gold-studded boots glimmered.

So caught up in his tirade was he that he did not see the thinning of her lips, or the flashing of her usually amber eyes to a dim scarlet. She yearned to sink her fangs into his unworthy throat, to rend him limb from limb and scatter his pieces to the four winds, to burn this tawdry abode he had erected in the place of her true master's magnificent dwelling.

_Soon,_ she promised herself. _Soon._

For now she would do as she had done for nearly twenty-five years now: she would wait. She would wait until she could be sure that he would never rise again and she could take his place as the rightful heir of Yuuichi Tate I, Lord and King of House Árpádok.

"Shiho!" He barked, snapping his fingers at one of the female attendants. One of the young women stepped forward, hips swaying, and ascended the dais, draping herself across him, "Send envoys to Graceburt and Kanzaki." He gripped her fleshy body closer roughly, making her whimper in pain, and pushed her head back to reveal her neck, "I want to call together the Council of Three."

"Of course, my Lord."

Rising and bowing, Shiho Munakata departed to the sounds of messy feeding, the clicking of her shoes giving way to the heady gasps and painful moans upon the dais. The surrounding attendants watched and waited, heads bowed, fodder for a ravenous King.

* * *

Throat working, head tipped back, Midori gasped loudly and appreciatively as she finished her Hot-Toddy. She had mixed it with more honey than water and more whiskey than either of the other two ingredients and that suited her just fine. It had, by no means, been her first drink that night, but it would be her last. She deserved it after a day like today. At least, that was how she rationalized it. More times than she could count, people close to her had advised her to stop drinking, but she continually ignored them. It wasn't a problem, really. And she was always careful not to get out of hand in important situations or in front of her subordinates.

Usually.

Everyone has a vice, she figured, and this was hers. So what if she counted down the minutes until five o'clock, when she allowed herself to pour an ice-cold gin and tonic? So what if that was followed by a few beers, and the occasional margarita if she felt so inclined? It was her body and therefore it was her business. Until it started affecting her job, others should just keep their noses out of her private life and let her drown her past and her stress in blissful inebriation.

Shrugging out of her suit, Midori fumbled with the buttons of her shirt. She swore when one ripped and tossed the article of clothing to the base of her bed. Her room was larger than most of the rooms in Phaesporia but not excessively so. Only so much as it needed to be. She did not want to seem to flaunt her position, so she maintained her quarters so that they were only slightly more elevated than her officers. Indeed, Mai's own room had more expensive furnishings, though nothing in her quarters could top Midori's prized sculptures. They were posed in various corners, all plundered from the Parthenon. Thought to have been destroyed upon their removal from the pediments of the Parthenon, they had been, in fact, passed down the ranks of nameless aristocrats and gold-diggers and would-be archaeologists for almost two centuries. And now they were here where Midori could appreciate them as only she and other archaeology / history enthusiasts could.

Staggering, she pulled on a pair of mismatched pajamas. When she turned, however, pulling the elastic band from her hair, she yelped in surprise.

"Jesus!" she clutched at her chest, feeling her heart dancing erratically, "What did I tell you about just showing up in my room! You're supposed to give me some sort of warning, remember?"

Haruka blinked at her from the centre of the room. There she stood, measuring tool in hand as always, blonde hair tied back, rather uncharacteristically Midori thought, in a tight bun at the base of her neck. She wore a pale green dress that looked oddly like Shizuru's, but Midori drew no conclusions from that fact, "Forgive me, Midori. I have been..._busy_ of late."

"Yea, well that makes two of us," Midori dragged her fingers through her thick, auburn locks to straighten them, but there remained a deep curve in her hair from where it had been up in its ponytail all day. She would have to shower tomorrow morning. Tonight she was just too damn tired, "What is it this time?"

"What is Shizuru's condition?"

Midori frowned, balancing unsuccessfully on one foot as she endeavored to remove one of her socks and consequently hopped awkwardly in place, "Condition? She's scaring my staff shit-less, drinking enough booze to fell a herd of cattle, demanding fine cuisine all the time and stalking Kruger at every given opportunity with blood-lust painted all over her. So, normal, I suppose."

Midori finally removed the sock and threw it in Haruka's direction. It fell just short of the woman, however, as though it had struck an invisible barrier and crumpled to the floor looking slightly charred, "Does she know of me?"

"No, no," the Cynthian leader waved the question away wearily as though she had heard it a thousand times in the past and tired of having it constantly repeated, "I told her you'd died. But she didn't believe me."

For once, Midori saw the faintest hint of emotion cross the woman's face. Haruka was grinning and her eyes held a wicked little glint, "I can't imagine she _would_ believe that."

Eyes narrowing, the alcohol got the best of her and she snapped, "What the hell are you, anyway? And what is she, for that matter?"

Sobriety took control of Haruka once more and the smile vanished. She looked as grim and uncompromising as ever, "Your duty does not require you to know such information at this time."

"That's not an answer!"

"And it is not _my_ duty to answer your every question," was the cool reply. Her grip tightened on the graduated mace, "You have the means to your end. Shizuru will give you aide where necessary."

Midori opened her mouth angrily to retort, but in the next instant, Haruka was gone. Swearing loudly, she stomped over to her bed. Throwing back the covers she grumbled, "Duty..." she clambered beneath the sheets, yawning and pulling the covers up to her chin, "What is it with her and duty, anyway?" Snuggling into the stuffed pillows, Midori clapped her hands and she was plunged into darkness and a hazy, drunken sleep.

* * *

**(1) Ten Sibyls: In Varro's "Res Divinae" he lists the ten main Sibyls of antiquity: Cumaean, Hellespontine, Tubertine, Phrygian, Persian, Delphic, Libyan, Erythraean, Samian and Cimmerian. There were, of course, more. These were just the most widely known and accepted. Later, Christianity and Judaism would specifically add two more to parallel the number of prophets in the Judeo-Christian canon. Here, however, I have kept it more classical. So, ten it is!**

**(2) Chronos: Yes, yes. I know that Chronos was not actually born of Nyx. There is a reason for him being there, however, so don't get your panties in a wad just yet! I may have also left out a few other children of Night, but c'est la vie. These were the ones I wanted, and I didn't want to drone on and on and on about classical mythology, much as I love to do so :P**

**(3) Shizuru's sentence: This was actually the verdict for Erzsebet Bathory. They ordered for her to be locked up in a room in her tower at Csejte vára, everything completely walled up with only a slit near the floor where food was passed through. When the plate the food was passed in on no longer came back, her room was sealed shut and never opened. I believe she lasted for about 4 years in this condition, but I may be wrong. I imagine she probably went a bit mad, as well. Who wouldn't! Yikes!**

**Hope y'alls liked it! Thanks again for your reviews!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello, again! Sorry for the longer than usual wait. I finished my last paper of the semester and now I have finals to worry about. Boo hiss. But! After that it's me and summer! Ah, summer! Perhaps I should write a lovely Ode to that lovely mistress! (Lovely only for the time-off her advent entails, I assure you. I despise heat and sunlight. Ugh. Give me rain and fog! And green mountains with rivers! MmmmMMM...).**

**Bad news though, my friends. For the few first months of summer, I shall be traveling. Ergo, my updates will be scattered at best.****I'll try to update again before that happens, but I'm warning you now.**

**In any case, Happy Easter! And enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine**

* * *

Her migraine was back.

Groaning, Midori rubbed her temples to no avail. She knew it was a useless gesture, knew that nothing could truly help. She'd been to countless doctors and physicians who had all hemmed and hawed over her many test results only to shrug and shake their heads. The cause was unknown and therefore no cure was to be had. The only thing that mildly helped was alcohol. But it was still only eleven in the morning and she couldn't start with that just then. Not when she was still at work.

"Official" work, that was. Stacks of reports cluttered her desk in the Museum. A draft from the heat vents stirred the Anatolian silk rug of rich browns, reds and greens behind her, deterring the cold from outside that lay a constant siege upon the building and seeped through the walls. Thankfully, no rain hammered on the windows and pavement outside and the absence of extra noise at least detracted from her stabbing headache. The low hum from the heater didn't help, however. After Haruka had left the night before, Midori had fallen asleep for but a few scant hours before invariably waking up to the pressing darkness. At that stage, the only thing left for her to do was either pace or work. Seeing as she had still been sluggish and unwilling to move more than absolutely necessary, she decided on the latter. And so began her day, like so many others, at four in the morning, dealing with Operative reports and intel.

A knock sounded at the door and she winced, "Come in."

Her head of Medieval history and artifacts stormed into the room, the door slamming open, making Midori's breath catch in spite of herself. She prided herself on having a high pain tolerance after having endured such things for years, but today's migraine felt like a phalanx was shoving against the front of her skull.

"Your precious Kruger hasn't been in for two days now," Tomoe began, marching forward to stop before the Head Curator's desk and plant her hands on her hips, "Two days and I haven't received so much as an e-mail. She doesn't even _bother_ making excuses!"

Midori didn't have the strength to interrupt the woman's tirade, "She's been working here for, what? Two weeks? Three? Does she think this kind of behavior will be tolerated? I - !"

Light, olive-green eyes remained half-lidded as the Artemisian Leader simply waited for Tomoe to stop. At a particularly loud invective, she grimaced. _God, that one hurt..._Finally, the head of the Medieval Department paused, noticing her boss' expression of pain, "What's up? You feeling ok?"

"Just a headache."

Tomoe jerked her thumb over her shoulder, saying, "I've got some Advil if you want it."

Waving the offer aside, Midori briefly brushed her bangs with the fingers of her left hand and sat back in her high-backed, wheeled leather chair, "As for your complaints, Kruger has contacted me personally. She's ill. Flu."

"Ah..." Tomoe almost sounded disappointed. It was almost as if she enjoyed finding an excuse, any excuse, to rail on their newest junior faculty member.

And Midori couldn't have that. She'd worked too hard tracking Kruger down and making sure she was positioned right where she wanted her. The figurative arms of UCL had been easy enough to twist, but she'd had to go to some length to have the other colleges reject Kruger's applications. Particularly those across the pond in America. To have all that hard work ruined by the trifling antipathy of one of her underlings...Well, she just wouldn't have it.

"She should be feeling better soon, however," Midori continued, "So she should be back in a few days."

That is, she would make Natsuki return to work, if but for a day, simply to appease Tomoe. At this, Tomoe seemed less than pleased. _Jesus, the woman is like a damned demon that requires sacrifices to keep her fury at bay, _Midori thought bitterly. If Tomoe hadn't been the finest Medieval Archaeologist and Historian in the UK, Midori would have gotten rid of her long since. Her resume and interview had been absolutely stunning, however, and if Midori didn't know any better she would have thought they were manufactured. But, Tomoe put in good work and built up the Museum's reputation that much more. She needed this place not only to look legitimate, but to actually be legitimate just as her predecessors had done before her.

It was all a legacy Midori was hoping to end soon. Very soon.

"Is that all, Tomoe?" Perhaps her voice had been a little too frigid there.

"Well," she grumbled, looking away, "I got into an argument with a Classical archaeologist yesterday afternoon."

Midori groaned. Fantastic. Now she'd have to kiss ass to whatever school said Classicist was from to keep them off her back, "Dammit, Tomoe! We've been over this before!"

"He completely ruined the foundations of a sixth century Visigothic basilica just to get at his precious Roman bath!" She was defensive and remained aggressive in her belief that she was in the right, "We've only got two whole ones! How many Roman baths are there? HUNDREDS! You go to any Roman site and WHAM! Roman bath!" She was obviously still sore about the subject. (1).

Heaving a great sigh, Midori pointed, eyes narrowed, "I understand that he was out of line. But you need to deal with it in a civilised manner! File a complaint with his University! Don't go bitching him out over the phone! Now," she waved Tomoe out with the command, "I want you to call him back and apologise -" She shot a glare at the grey-eyed woman who had started to interrupt her, complaining, "I said, I want you to apologise and then write a civilised - _civilised, mind you_ - report to his College explaining his errors in the field."

"Fine..." Muttering to herself, Tomoe departed, but not without a haughty, dismissive flick of her beryl hair and a slam of the door.  
Scrubbing at her haggard face with the heels of her palms, Midori mumbled, "God...Why did I hire her again?"

* * *

All through the night, eldritch dreams had plagued Natsuki. They had not been unpleasant, simply...bizarre. Filling her with uncanny images that invoked within her something...something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. The dreams had been extensive, but as a whole only a dim memory remained, like the hint of metal on the tongue after retrieving a spoon from one's mouth. She could only remember one image. Of lying beneath a tree, basking in the coolness of its shade, filled with lulling warmth. Grass tickled the back of her arms and her bare feet. The body that sprawled before her was not her own. It was a stranger's, one she could not move or control in any fashion. Head propped against a surprisingly soft root, she had stared lazily, utterly serene, up at the woven branches gently swaying, leaves fluttering upon a breath of Olympian wind. Fading evening light of an eternal summer filtered through the canopy, glinting gold upon the boughs heavy with succulent fruit, and in the distance a sunset blossomed on the horizon, ever falling with such painfully sweet cadences to the dawning dusk, to the cascading stars, ever falling.

And then she had woken with this feeling. This dread, unsettling feeling that squirmed and writhed in her stomach like a bed of snakes. It was not that the dream had left her with this sensation. Rather, it was as if her return to this mortal, material world made her nauseous. Some part of her balked and, not for the first time in her life, she felt trapped in her own earthy limbs. It felt as though she were a caged animal clawing at her own skin from within.

It was the only reoccurring dream Natsuki ever had, and she hated it. For as long as she could remember it had been a scourge upon her mind, haunting her through the nights with its subliminal beauty only to leave her stranded and desolate, so alone in this world of loam.

Therefore, ever since Mai had woken her up for breakfast, Natsuki had been rather recalcitrant. She knew that Mai probably thought her ire stemmed from recent events, and she was happy to let her go on thinking that. Just because she understood her friend's situation, understood that she had been a part of the Artemisians for years before they had meant, didn't mean that Natsuki wasn't still nursing her anger over the subject, slowly nursing her wounds from the very sudden twist that had verily rent her life in twain.

Presently, Mai was leading her to the shooting range, or "Training Grounds" as she called it. After letting their morning meal settle, Natsuki had been taken to an enormous warehouse-sized room stuffed to bursting with weaponry of every variety. Ranging from close-quarter combat weapons - daggers, throwing knives, swords, spears, garrotes - all the way to the endlessly long barrels of sniper rifles mounted with scopes bigger than her fist, the sheer amount of which made her stop in her tracks and gape. She had spent ages in there, weighing weapons in her hands, marveling until Mai had quite literally dragged her away, but only after she had picked out two revolvers. They were things of beauty: swing-out cylinder, double-action weapons with short barrels, 12 chambers and a blued finish. Now as they walked, Natsuki could feel the familiar weight of them strapped into the holsters wrapped comfortably around her upper thighs. It put a jaunty spring in her stride that she had been lacking these past few days.

Unlike the other doors which opened upon one's approach, the doors to Sector VII remained firmly shut. It was not until Mai tugged off her glove and placed her hand upon a scanning plate set into the wall, glowing faintly blue, that the doors hissed open. A long hallway of numerous identical doors, widely spaced by nearly 20 meters or so, spread out before them. Suspended over each doorway shone a set of lights. All at the present time were red. When the door to Sector VII slid shut behind them, an eerie silence filled the space, broken only by the hollow ring of their boots, though Natsuki's thick, rubber-soled leather boots, black and laced tightly just below her knee, gave a warmer echo than Mai's plated, soldier's footwear. Natsuki's comfortably-tight pants had been tucked neatly into her boots. Without thinking she had pulled a clinging, forest-green shirt over her head that morning, bearing so logo or another she never paid attention to, and knew not how stunningly this combination brought out the vividness of her eyes, the porcelain perfection of her skin, and the night-dark wing of her hair. Truly, Shizuru could not be to blame for desiring such a heedless young morsel of a woman.

Mai stopped and Natsuki halted her stride as well. After a quick series of buttons being punched on another small screen, the door before them, labeled ROOM XII, slipped not sideways, but up into the ceiling, allowing them entrance.

"Hey, Takeda."

A man swiveled in his chair at the greeting, "Morning, Callisto. Who's your friend?"

They stepped inside and the door swiftly descended, throwing them into a darkness pervaded only by the numerous lights emitted from two enormous switchboards, "This is Natsuki. Natsuki, Takeda Masashi: Company Operative."

With a small smile, Takeda held out his hand, which she took, "_Un plaisir._" Natsuki nodded in reply.

Mai arched a brow at him, "What're you French now?"

Shrugging, he replied, "Nao's rubbing off on me."

A voice crackled over a hidden intercom, making Natsuki start, "_Nao_ is waiting for more Fangs to cut up. Let's go, Masashi."

Swiveling back around in his chair, Takeda pushed a button and said, "Sorry, Nao. We'll continue. 10 more minutes sound good?"

An affirmative mutter came through the mic.

"Mind of I co-pilot?" Mai made her way over to the second station to Takeda's right and lowered the height of the chair to make herself more comfortable.

"Won't make much difference," Nao muttered.

Takeda grinned, "Is that a challenge?"

"Do your worst, pretty boy."

He and Mai shared identical little smirks, "You hear that, Callisto? Nao thinks she can best the both of us."  
Joints popping as she laced her hands and stretched them over her head, Mai wiggled her fingers, expectant, "I did indeed. Let's teach this frog-eater a lesson."

As he punched a large blue button, Mai motioned Natsuki to her side. She approached and frowned quizzically down at the horse-shoe shaped panel raised all around Mai, "What is this?"

A multitude of buttons, knobs and dials, both sliding and radial, flashed and shone with various lights and were labeled with small, white letters all of which were abbreviations for something. Something long and complicated, Natsuki was sure. The two enormous screens wrapping almost completely around both stations buzzed to life as Mai and Takeda flipped switches and twirled knobs, hands and fingers flying around, blurring in the mingled light and darkness, "This," Mai began, lilac eyes flicking between the board and the screen as she worked, "Is a holographic simulator designed to train our soldiers and operatives. All Cynthian personnel are required to undergo basic combat training, but this specializes in recreating situations that one would encounter in the field."

Natsuki watched as a woman with red hair, dressed in a black track-suit, slouched in the centre of the screen. She stood in the middle of a room with walls made of brilliant green screens which held little round spigots at every screen junction. As she observed, a small gasp escaped her. The room shimmered briefly before an entire city suddenly materialized within it. It was not any city that she knew, but she felt as though she were looking at a postcard of Paris at night or perhaps Rome. Every detail was present: the wilting flowers upon a windowsill in desperate need of watering, the paint peeling from doors, the mangy tabby cat rummaging through rubbish in a side-alley, the glow of city lights veiling the stars in their purplish backdrop, even the silhouettes of an arguing couple through a curtained window.

"Incredible..." she breathed.

Mai shot a grin over her shoulder at Natsuki, "That's about the reaction I had. With this, we can synthesize any image with any voice. I've seen men believe that their wives were actually standing before them and couldn't tell the difference even if the actual thing were standing right beside it. The only thing that doesn't seem to work is with mothers. We don't know why, but if you put a mother in there and make a hologram of her kid and have it sit beside the real thing, she knows which is which immediately. They always know the difference."

A snarl issued from the intercom. Nao had just caught a look at herself. The hologram had covered her sleek track-suit and instead replaced it with a pink dress that flared out like a tutu to reveal the many ruffles beneath. Long white gloves covered her arms and white stockings were held up by silky garters. With her black-buckled shoes, golden ringlets and garishly painted face, she looked like a life-sized Victorian doll.

"Hey, Nao," Takeda teased into the mic, "Where's your teddy-bear?"

"You are dead," she hissed back, fists clenched at her side, quivering in rage, glaring in their direction though she could not actually see them, "DEAD."

"Oh look!" Mai said, punching a few more buttons, "Fangs! Just what you wanted, Nao."

With a fierce growl, Nao burst into action. The four vampires that had rounded the corner and sprinted at her were turned into chopped meat. Limbs flew in every direction accompanied by sprays of blood. Before they fell to the ground, three more leaped down from the rooftops. Raising her arms, Nao reduced them to truncated, twitching masses. She didn't look quite so cute when her bright pink self was slashed with fresh gore. Strands glittered all around Nao, and for a moment Natsuki wondered what they were. With a flick of her wrists, Nao retracted these strands. Like a lethal web, they had spread all around her so that she crouched, a deadly arachnid at its very centre.

"Jesus-fuckin-Christ," Natsuki swore, staring at the screen, "She's like a spider."

"Well her codename _is_ Arachne," Takeda supplied without looking away from his task.

Nao remained crouched in the middle of the street, waiting, "Is that it?" She sneered.

Monstrous yips and growls soared above the rooftops and resounded beneath the steaming manholes, making the cobbled streets shudder, the cracked plaster from the narrow walls flaking off, heralding the coming of more. Much more.

Feeling emboldened by the familiar banter, Natsuki leaned over, jabbed the mic button and said, "Nice panties, Arachne."

Nao only had enough time to curse loudly in her native tongue before hordes of vampires rained down upon her. They streamed from the rooftops, crawled up through the streets, clambered through the shattered glass of windows, their flesh scraping upon the sharply edged frames. Their movements were abnormally fast, almost cretinous, their limbs snapped around like insects. Their numbers meant nothing. Whirling around as if in a tense dance, almost a waltz, Nao spun her web and they fell to her gossamer weaves like the vermin they were. Light as down, but taut and savage, her skeins whipped all around the alley, jerking in razor-sharp arcs with the smallest curl of her fingers, dismembering, decapitating, decimating. She could have been swirling around a ballroom, a courtier or ballerina calmly dancing to Strauss or Schumann. Calm, but for a deadly smirk on her face.

At last, chest heaving, Nao ceased all motion. Bodies lay around her, slumped against the walls, half-hanging from windows and roofs, clogging the entrances to the sewers. Sweat ran in tiny rivulets down her temples, though thanks to the hologram her blonde curls remained immaculate, albeit smattered with blood as was the rest of her person.

"What? No Elders?" She panted, "I thought you were going to challenge me and yet all I get is this Tenth Generation scum?"

"Time's up, Nao," Takeda sat back in his chair, "You have to be a big girl and share your toys with the other children."

Grumbling acidly in French, she strode towards them. Her pink frills vanished, slowly disintegrating along with the city and bodies. A door leading to the training room slid up and admitted her into the room. She was rather short, Natsuki noticed, at least in comparison to herself, but what Nao lacked in size she made up for in attitude. Without hesitation, she made straight for Takeda and punched him in the gut. As she stood over him, having doubled over from pain, she growled, "That's for the dress, _salop_!" (2) Turning, she jabbed a screen in the far wall to the left and a door opened to reveal a large bathroom of sparkling stainless steel that smelled strongly of disinfectant, "I'm going to take a shower." The door closed behind her.

Takeda groaned and muttered at the laughing Mai, "Shut up. You just had to add the garters..."

Still giggling, Mai ran a hand through her hair and turned to Natsuki, "Alright, then. Saddle up, Natsuki. Let's test your aim."

Natsuki shrugged and made towards the training room, but paused at the threshold, "Would guns kill any vampire?"

"No," Mai admitted, already fixing the settings for the hologram room, and therefore not looking at Natsuki, "Not _any_ vampire. Most of them. We rank vampires in terms of Generations. As far as we've been able to discern, there are thirteen Generations. The closer the Generation is to the original - Viola, that is - the stronger they are. Guns loaded with UV rounds will typically kill anything that's Seventh Generation or lower. Depending on how weak they are. The higher the Generation, the more effective sunlight is. One bullet from your gun will take out a Thirteenth Generation Fang, no problem. Others will require more."

"And if it's lower than seven? What then?"

"Decapitation," Natsuki blinked at the answer, "Cut off a Fang's head, and it wont move again. Though," Mai added dryly, "Getting that close to them can be a pain. Especially if their lower than a Seventh Generation, because that usually means Aristocracy. And _that_ is a whole can of worms you _really_ don't want to open. Oh! And burning. Never seen a vampire that survived being an undead torch."

Frowning, Natsuki said, "But Shizuru said she'd been burned at the stake once. In Italy."

Mai snorted and replied a bit sharply, "I wouldn't believe everything Viola says. She's not the best source of information on how to kill a vampire now, is she?"

"Yea. Thanks. I know." Natsuki grunted and stepped into the training room.

Mai's voice continued over the intercom, rebounding off the wall of screens in a strange echo, "Don't worry. I'll keep it Thirteenth or Twelfth Generation for today. You shouldn't have any problem."

Natsuki didn't bother responding. Her hands slid down her hips to her thighs and she flipped open the snap of her holsters. The smooth wooden handles of the revolvers felt nice beneath her fingers. Emerald eyes disappeared behind their lids, and she waited, listening. At the sound of shuffling footsteps, her eyes flew open. She was on the UCL campus and all the lights that usually brightened it had been extinguished. The vampire that stood on the opposite side of the field was little more than a shambling ghoul. Its mouth hung slightly open, slack as the droop of its shoulders. Its gaze was wide, a dim bloody hue spreading over its sclera. Unlike Shizuru's which flared so easily to life, so brightly, or even those of the thugs that had invaded her apartment, this vampire's eyes remained dull as if sightless. A breath of wind stirred the air. Though Natsuki could not feel it, she could hear it tangling the rows of saplings that lined the area. The creature lifted its head. It sniffed. Mouth opening wide, it let loose a howl and charged blindly forward.

At the rush of its staggering footsteps, Natsuki raised her revolvers and fired twice. The first shot pierced her adversary, reducing it to ash before the other could even make contact. She blinked and looked over her shoulder to where she knew Mai and Takeda were watching, "That easy, huh?"

She could hear Takeda chuckling over Mai's reply, "Yup. Thirteenth Generations don't last long. They usually die the morning after they're turned, since they can't escape from the sunlight on their own. Needless to say, there aren't very many of them."

Takeda's voice suddenly became serious, "All they know is the thirst. Death is a mercy."

"Ugh," Mai said, "I've never liked mercy killings...Awful things, them."

"Shit!" Natsuki suddenly exclaimed, looking down at her guns in horror, "What about the bullets? Did they damage the screens?"

"What? Oh! Oh, no. Don't worry about that." The room shifted to reveal the wall opposite Natsuki, "See? No harm done."

"How-?"

"There aren't actual rounds in there right now. Just blanks. The hologram tracks the muzzle of your gun, its type, model, etc. and replicates the trajectory of the projectiles that would normally shoot out."

"Huh." Natsuki eyed the barrels and grinned, "I'm liking this training room of yours, Mai."

"And this is only the beginning," she could hear Mai's amusement over the intercom, "Guns up, Natsuki. You're going to need them."

Twirling the revolvers expertly around her fingers, Natsuki aimed in front of her and said, "Let's see what you got."

The room shimmered and as a pair of Thirteenth Generation vampires sprinted forward, she fired with an exhilarated smile.

Mai and Takeda watched as Natsuki dispatched her foes with ease and a certain joy only this could bring, like a child receiving a new toy for her birthday, "Well, she's enjoying herself," Takeda mused, letting Mai handle it on her own. It would not have been appropriate for him to spring any surprises on someone who had never been in Sector VII before, especially someone who was so green.

"I thought she'd like it," they both nodded admiringly as Natsuki blew the head off an attacker galloping forward on all fours like a hound, "Phew! That was nice!"

This continued for a few minutes, the sound of gun-fire and vampiric shrieks only broken by the occasional whoop of triumph from Natsuki, until Mai started creating something entirely different. Seeing what was being constructed and displayed at the corner of Mai's screen, Takeda said, "I thought you were keeping it Thirteenth Generation?"

Mai's voice was hard as flint, "I lied."

Natsuki was suddenly plunged into a familiar room in Phaesporia. She cocked her head, confused. A low mahogany table sat before raging fire surrounded by two armchairs. An armoire stood in the far corner beside a sprawling bed. The candelabra upon the mantle-piece had been lit as well. Wasn't this - ? She heard a swish of a dress, a sinking of feet into thick carpeting. Whirling around, weapons raised, she froze.

"_Natsuki_."

Shizuru. She stood so close behind her. The adrenaline pumping through her system made her heart hammer in her chest, but still Natsuki hesitated. The guns suddenly felt heavier. They were made of lead and her arms of straw. Her hands trembled and it showed as tremours ran through all the way to the weapons themselves. Those red eyes were dark with desire. Shizuru slipped through her outstretched arms so that the revolvers were on either side of her head. Natsuki was frozen in place. She couldn't move. Shizuru was so close. She could see the fine golden shimmer of downy hair at Shizuru's temples; she could see the pale swell of her chest as Shizuru leaned forward; she could see the lines of those full lips, turned upwards in a seductive smile.

The lips moved as they drew nearer, so near, and, parting slightly, they whispered her name hoarsely, "_Natsuki..._"

Instead of feeling that mouth upon her own, trembling and flushed, the hologram passed through her and broke apart into microscopic, pixilated flecks. The training room returned to its original green. Natsuki still stood with her arms extended, eyes wide, breathing heavy. She swallowed in a vain endeavor to wet her parched throat and ran a shaking tongue across her dry lips. _What the hell was that...?_

"Shit," Mai was sitting back in her chair, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of her nose. The intercom button had not been pressed and Natsuki couldn't hear her reaction.

"What was that for, Mai?" Takeda asked, curious yet startled. He may have never personally met Viola, but he knew what she looked like from the report that had been sent to all Cynthian personnel.

"Just an experiment, Takeda," she snapped back, "Forget you ever saw it." _Dammit, Natsuki. You were supposed to shoot her. You were supposed to shoot her and laugh at me and say, "How could you ever think I'd fall for something like that?"._

Nao emerged from the washroom, steam billowing out after her, dressed once more in her Artemisian suit just as her partner was, "Masashi," he turned as she called him, "Let's go see what Yohko found on the body."

By the time they left, Natsuki had only just lowered her arms, features bearing that stunned expression even now.

_What the hell_ was_ that?_

She had no idea. And she wasn't sure she wanted to find out.

* * *

**(1) Yea, archaeologists are very attached to their particular fields and sometimes if they want to get at their object of interest, they'll scrape away at other materials that are in the way. Many times, settlements undergo a kind of "stacking" in which settlements are simply built upon by later peoples, thus making it very difficult to get at the older material.**

**(2)**_**Un plaisir**_**: French. "A pleasure". A gracious greeting.**

**(3)**_**Salop**_**: French. "Bastard".**

**Hope y'alls liked it! Tune in next time for coroners and Natsuki's return to the museum!**

**-Kore**


	13. Chapter 13

**Ok. So I lied. There's no Natsuki returning to work in this. So what? Instead, I have some fantastic plot development. A fair trade, right?**

**No? I see some shaking heads. "GIVE US SHIZNAT!" the crowds cry. Alas, my friends, you must wait. I won't have our favourite pair jump into each other's arms without some good, sexual tension and stewing first. Trust me, the wait will be worth it :P**

**Now! In this chapter, I have added the reward for dear Crosswood that I mentioned in a previous chapter. I'm sure you'll all notice it, and I hope she'll like it. (Well...I hope she doesn't come after me with all her military knowledge and whatnot. *rubs back of head nervously*).**

**Also, a few people pointed out a mistake in my French in the last chapter. My apologies! I'm afraid I haven't taken French in a while, so I'm sure its absolutely abysmal right now. In fact, I'm very aware that it's abysmal. My Latin is infinitely better than my French, and even then, I'm only human. I make mistakes. Especially with no beta.**

**And as of now, I am on official hiatus due to finals and the first few months of summer vacation. Perhaps I'll manage to squeeze out one more chapter before I go, but if I do it'll be by late next week.**

**In any case, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

Here, everything held a deadly sparkle.

The stainless steel walls, floors, tables, light fixtures, sinks, the trays of fresh tools complete with scalpels and saws and measuring implements, the glass flasks and bulbs, the pristinely white lab-coats. All gleamed brightly and smelled so strongly of a mix of disinfectant and iodine and formaldehyde that any person not accustomed to the mingling, acrid scent would immediately shield their faces, eyes watering, mouth and clothes infused for the rest of the day with the stench. Nao's nose wrinkled slightly in distaste. She would have to run her suit through the wash two or three times before she got that all-permeating smell out of the fabric.

Her foot tapped, an anxious habit developed whenever she wasn't relieving her nicotine addiction. Up and down. Up and down it bounced, making her pant leg shift and fold with every nervous movement. Smoking was strictly forbidden in Sector III, also known as the Medical Ward. She needed to finish this evaluation and get out as soon as possible. Not just for her sake, but for those around her. Although she wouldn't admit it even were her life at stake, she had grown rather found of her partner, an it would be a damned shame if she killed him for something as trivial as this. Not to mention the immense displeasure that would be heaped upon her in abundance if she had to train a green Operative, fresh from the barracks, to be her new partner. _That_ would irk her the most. If there was one thing she couldn't stand in people, it was stupidity. And novice Operatives waving guns around like they were playing "Call of Duty" or some such nonsense, thinking themselves invincible, were chock-full of stupidity.

The partner in question hummed absently to himself as they waited. Nao slouched, brooding, in one of the line of squashy black chairs bolted to the floor. On the other hand, Takeda sat with impeccable posture, feet planted firmly on the ground, knees at ninety-degree angles with his palms flat on his thighs. He could have been a statue of a pharaoh at Karnak if not for the tapping of his fingers upon his strong thighs in beat to his tune. It was no song she had ever heard before and it resonated deep in his throat, low and foreboding, almost portentous. Something akin to a Gregorian chant. _Dies Irae_, perhaps, or Handel's Jeptha, _How Dark, O Lord_. Truly a strange person. She wondered how they ever got along.

At least it was better than Edith Piaf. Nao had been raised in a small village in Southern France, and when people learned her nationality, they automatically assumed she must _love_ Edith Piaf. She gritted her teeth at the thought. If she had to hear that scratchy, melancholic, droning drivel one more time...Nao's taste in music ran towards the more extreme. Not unlike her personality. Though her mother had been a violinist obsessed with Classical, she preferred the more invigorating tunes of _Atreyu_ and _Eisheilig_. (1) Thus, she was a connoisseur by associated of Vivaldi and Gothic Metal that usually blared in her ears when her feet hammered on the tread-mill or when she ripped vampires to tiny pieces in Sector VII.

At last, when the jitters seemed to swallow her whole, Yohko arrived. Still wearing blue-elastic gloves, her arms kept vertical in the air with the backs of her hands facing outward so as not to touch anything, she gestured for the two waiting Operatives to follow her. They did so gladly, Nao leaping to her feet and trudging after the doctor, impatience and irritation in her stride. Into a back room with a swinging door they were led, a place not much different from the previous waiting room but for the body in the centre. Lit from above by numerous lights, the corpse was a washed-out, pallid grey covered mostly by a white sheet. It was the girl they had inspected in an alleyway just the day before. Her mousy brown hair, no longer lank and damp, had been brushed back from her oval face, revealing a long cut across the brow that extended down past her ears and, Nao knew, to the base of the occipital. The skullcap had been stapled back in place for their viewing, but Nao knew that it could be easily removed should the situation necessitate it. She had seen more than her share of forensic investigations as her line of work required such things.

Yohko walked quickly to the body's side and pointed with her elbow at a clip-board that was hanging from the side of the steel table. Takeda picked it up as she started listing off the facts of the case, "Our subject is a seventeen year old girl found in Holborn near Charing Cross. Based upon dental records, her name is Beatrice Crosswood. (2) She was an exchange student from New Zealand studying at the University of London."

Takeda flipped through the many sheets held in place by the clip-board and commented, "She's a bit young to be studying at the collegiate level, isn't she?"

The forensic coroner shrugged, "According to the reports, she was very bright. Already in her third-year in her studies of Military History." Circling the body, Yohko pointed at the base of the jaw, where jawline and neck met, "It was difficult to notice but there's a small amount of bruising here. Traces of chloroform were found in her system, so this was most likely where the attacker grabbed our victim to steady her when pressing a soaked cloth to her orifices. Upon further analysis, the compound was found to be a mixture of alcohol, chloroform and diethyl ether, also known as A.C.E. Mixture. It is a very common anaesthesia. Though it hasn't been used to any great extent since the 1900s, you could easily find the ingredients in any laboratory or hospital across the globe let alone the country," she made a wide sweep of her arm to indicate the facility they were currently in, "As a matter of fact, we have them here."

"So, in other words, we've got nothing on this case," Nao grumbled, "Perfect..." She squinted at their murder victim as though angered and indignant that she was with-holding secrets from them even after death.

"Not necessarily," Yohko moved to gently pick up the stump of flesh that remained of Beatrice's hand and carefully gestured to the wound, "Trace amounts of bronze were found along this wound. An expert incision was made between the carsus and ulnar-radial grouping."

"In English," Nao growled, foot still tapping, arms crossed before her.

Unaffected by the Operative's grumpy demeanor, Yohko continued, "Based upon the dimensions of the wound and that of the fatal incision on the neck - which, I might add, also held traces of bronze - not only have I deduced that the same weapon was used in both instances, but I have managed to recreate an image of what the weapon would have looked like."

At this, the Operatives lit up. Perked, wolfish ears could almost be seen peeking from their heads as Takeda turned to one of the last pages in the file. Indeed, there was printed the image of a bronze dagger. It was a simply looking weapon, hilt-less, long and triangular, ending in a sharp point. The handle and pommel were pure conjecture, but the forensic coroner had kept it as simplistic as the rest of the weapon, "Now that's more like it," Takeda murmured.

"It may mean nothing, "Yohko began placing the girl's arm back upon the steel table and peeling off her gloves, "But this resembled a Mycenaean dagger, dating around LHIIIA:2, circa 1320 BC."

Takeda grinned over the top of the clipboard, "Since when did you get to be such a history buff, Yohko?"

She flipped the lid of a bio-hazardous waste bin, coloured a vibrant red, tossed her gloves in and started vigorously washing her hands in a nearby sink, "Since I met Midori in graduate school. The woman's like an infectious disease with her history and culture. And besides," she muttered grudgingly, "It's kind of interesting..." wiping her hands dry with paper towels from an electric dispenser connected to the wall above the sink, she glared at Takeda, "And don't you _dare_ tell her I said that. She'd never let me live it down."

"Was that it?" Nao questioned, fingers joining her foot in an erratic dance, "No other narcotics?"

Yohko slipped her hands calmly into the deep pockets of her lab-coat, shaking her head, "That's it. She was clean."

"Right." Briskly starting off towards the exit, Nao said, "Thanks, Sagisawa. Takeda! Bring the clip-board!"

She was fumbling for the pack of cigarettes in her breast pocket as soon as she stepped foot outside Sector III.

* * *

_Il dolce suono mi colpi di sua voce! (3)_

Music sang out in a bitter-sweet aria across the open air of a terrace in Rome. The sun had just begun to set, heralding a haze of colours sweeping from the palest yellow to a deep lavender, the very hems of dewy Night as she made her august approach through the sky. Vibrant pink and red Bougainvillea clung to the staccoed walls, and Wisteria dripped over an elegant, private dinner. Two people dined, slowly and surely, savouring their meal to the fullest extent, enjoying both food and company as only the Italians could offer. They had begun their repast hours since and were now awaiting the final course. They sipped from dainty fluted glasses a fine pear _grappa_ that had been aged in oak and bore a rich golden hue because of it.

_Ah, quella voce m'e qui nel cor discesa!_

As they watched the sun set, the man said softly, "What a beautiful night. So much more so for the daily death of the sun that preludes it."

"You always had a penchant for poetry, Reito. Perhaps that was why you fell to Viola's ensnaring ways."

He smiled at his companion, his features bearing no hint of malice, "We both know, Maria, that Viola was a force to be reckoned with." He chuckled and took another small sip of _grappa_, "The woman was more akin to a force of nature than an actual person." Sighing and leaning back in his wicker chair, he rested his arm upon the cream-coloured table-cloth, "Ah! It seems only a century ago that she was gliding among us, gaze flashing, voice serene, smooth, commanding as the moon over a nocturnal battlefield."

Maria, dressed austerely in a dark grey dress, plain and unadorned, lifted a wrinkled brow, "You sound positively nostalgic!" A wry smile spread across her aged facade at the thought, "Do you wish she were still alive?"

At this a light, airy laugh escaped from him, a surprisingly feminine projection of mirth. He raised his hand to his chest, where a white cravat was tucked into his pale silk shirt the loose sleeves of which protruded from his red and black brocade doublet. Though his entire outfit was Renaissance in appearance, down to his soft leather boots folded over at the knee and the silver embroidered black trench-coat thrown over his chair, Reito Kanzaki managed to pull it off in this modern age with an air of style and elegance. Oftentimes he was mistaken for having tastes that ran towards his own sex due to his general graceful and epicene bearing, especially in this day and age where one's sexuality was put under intense scrutiny - as though it mattered to such people as they! They who had lived in a time when the term 'homosexuality' had little to no meaning. (4)

"Heavens! No!" Reito chortled, crossing his legs, "I dare say that would end badly for us!"

Maria Graceburt patted her tightly wound bun at the back of her head to make sure no wisps of hair had escaped from their bindings, "She would doubtlessly..._reprimand_ us for our little empires."

Sitting suddenly straighter, he thrust his arm before him as if addressing a crowd, voice deepening, glare fierce, " 'We are the be-shadowed elite! We are denizens of Night designed to fulfill her dark purpose in the silent realm of the unrecorded, the unrecognized!' " He ended the quote, eliciting a smile from Maria, and sank back into his seat once more, "God! 'Reprimand us', you say? She'd flay us alive!"

"And she'd enjoy it," Maria added, pointing her finger emphatically.

"Naturally. I'd be worried if she didn't."

_Oh gioia che si sente, e non si dice!_

They fell into silence, then. Listening to the painfully dulcet yet dramatic lines of the opera with which they were both well acquainted. Night had truly made her presence known now. The Castel Sant'Angelo could be seen to their right, an enormous round monument with lights shining upon it from the ground, staining it a deep russet with the coming darkness. Similarly, St. Peter's Basilica rose to their left, a towering dome surrounded by adoring stone saints. Maria could remember a time when that dome had still been under construction, when Constantine's original structure, in poor condition and bad need of repair, had stood in its place. The one thing that never changed was the floods of people, scores of them, hordes of them, pilgrims and tourists from every corner of the globe and Christendom that flocked to the once degenerate graveyards of Rome.

_Splendon le sacre faci, splendon intorno!_

"Did you ever meet her family?"

Reito glanced curiously at his dinner-partner at the query, "No. Did you?"

"No. They were all dead by the time I came around," she paused thoughtfully, drinking the last of her _grappa_, "Though I still think of my own. 'Tis a rarity, I might add."

He grunted in reply, dark eyes glinting with memories, "As do we all. Time passes and with every year it becomes a little easier to forget that they ever existed. The memories are so blurred now..." he sighed, taking the last tiny sip of his drink before setting it down on the table, "Yuuichi was a lucky one, wasn't he? No family. What a luxury!"

Maria frowned at him over the arms of her many servants who had begun to light the candles at the centre of the table, ignoring them as though they were not there at all, "I thought Shiho was his sister?"

"Not by blood," Reito corrected, "They were just a pair of orphans, clinging to one another in their struggling lives. What an act of mercy," he exclaimed, "for Shizuru to turn him when he had absolutely nothing! No aspirations! No future!"

"Mercy would have been giving them a swift death," Maria countered bitterly, more talking to herself then to him, "Rather than turn Yuuichi then force him to do the same for his beloved Shiho."

"How is it, I wonder," he grinned at her over the now pale lit candles, "that we get along so well? What with you dampening my poetic spirit and all?"

She sniffed dismissively, "Oh, Lord! Can you imagine if I were like that as well? We'd never get anything accomplished!"

Changing the subject smoothly, Reito asked, "And where is this mouth-watering dessert you promised me? You've grown to be such a tease in your old age, Maria!"

Shooting him an exasperated glance, she was nonetheless amused and clapped her hands lightly, the pads of her fingers tapping the heel of her palm in a refined gesture, "If I remember correctly, you have a certain appetite for the Oriental. So I had this small delicacy ordered from the East."

Reito's dark eyes gleamed, the light of the candles fading to the vermillion flare that shone forth from his gaze. Two servants wearing grey livery bearing the Medveczky coat of arms on their left breast and right shoulder emerged. Between them strode with dainty steps a porcelain doll of a girl draped with bright oriental silks, dark lustrous hair woven into intricate knots and loops around her head, setting off her perfect, heart-shaped face and the milky skin of her tender neck. That tiny, puckered mouth was more akin to a pair of rose petals, still budding, though the ripe shape of her epicanthic eyes was indescribably innocent.

As she made her slow approach, eyes downcast demurely, hands folded together beneath her long sleeves, Reito could not help but let forth a soft sigh, "Ah...Maria, you know me far too well! What a beauty she is!" He rose to greet the girl as she stopped a few paces away and bowed, ever proper despite her youth. Even after he had knelt before her, he still had to gently tilt her head up to look into her eyes, "For this, I would travel with you to London for the Council of Three thrice over!" Reito smiled kindly down at the girl and asked graciously, "Do you have a name, child?"

In a timid, tremulous voice, she replied softly, "Xiu Li."

Standing gracefully, Maria headed towards the door that connected the terrace to her sprawling mansion, saying as the walked, "Tomorrow afternoon, we'll leave for the Council of Three. In that time, we should arrive in London by early evening."

"Of course," Reito already had convinced the child to let him put her in his lap back at the table, and was stroking her hair, admiring the utterly tangible feel of it, the youth and vitality, the innocence soon to be lost forever. All the while, the girl was staring up at him with adoring eyes, face lighting up in the barest hint of a smile.

_A pity_, Maria thought as she left them, striding through the well-lit recesses of her Italian home, _He must have been such a good father when living._

* * *

**(1) Atreyu, etc: None of the listed bands/musicians, etc are meant to be a reference to my own personal taste in music. To me, Nao just seems like the kind of girl who'd rock out to some Metal when dicing and slicing her vampire buddies into bratwurst. (Sort of like Abigail Whistler from "Blade Trinity", minus the awesome bow).**

**(2) Beatrice Crosswood: A-HA! There! I hope you weren't **_**too**_** offended by my choice of rewarding you, Crossy. This way, you get to be a part of the story. Albeit a small and rather grim one...And the choice of first name I gave you came from one of our discussions where I likened you to Beatrice from "Much Ado About Nothing" :)**

**(3) Italian: All of these lines in Italics and Italian are from the opera "Lucia di Lammermoor" the famous "Mad Scene".**

**(4) homosexuality: Ugh. I hate it when people ask questions like, "Was Julius Caesar gay?" or "Was Alexander the Great gay?" Homosexuality is such a modern phenomenon in a certain sense. Back then, one was not required to choose. Sex was sex. People were people. It really didn't matter much which gender you preferred or took part in upon occasion. The main concern, especially for Romans, was who was penetrating whom. That particular aspect has remained unto the present date. The "catcher" is considered more feminine and the "pitcher" more masculine. It was even a display of dominance in some cases (See, Catullus 16. But be warned! It's gritty and certainly not for the faint-of-heart...). That being said, lesbianism was pushed to the side throughout history, particularly occidental history, because there was, of course, no organ with which to penetrate. Which is not to say that it didn't happen, because it definitely did! It's just that in terms of social and cultural import, women-women sexuality was definitely not high up on the list. (One of the few instances we have is Sappho of Lesbos, one of my favourite Greek poetesses. She was practically revered throughout Antiquity for her absolutely stunning lyric poetry; Plato called her "the tenth Muse". Alas, over the inevitable course of time she has become so grossly misconstrued! Woe! Eternal woe!). End rant.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello, my friends! Please excuse me for the delay in posting this next chapter; I was (am) on vacation. However, I found that I could not stay away for too long. This story is such fun to write and y'alls are such a fantastic audience, I can't help but itch to write the next chapter. Thus, I give you this early summer present!**

**I hope y'alls are having a wonderful summer.**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

Natsuki had not slept well the night before.

Again.

Apparently, her body rejected the idea of sleeping after she had met Shizuru Viola. Perhaps it was because of the sudden shift in her life, her daily routine. Perhaps it was her subconscious telling her that sleep when a monster like the Creature of Ecsed lurked nearby was a bad idea. Perhaps it was the lumpy mattress. Then again, the fact that _her_ bed was lumpy whilst Shizuru's had looked perfectly spectacular in terms of comfort irked Natsuki. _She_ was the human! Didn't _she_ deserve a comfortable sleeping surface? Hell, Shizuru didn't even sleep at all! What would she do with a bed?

Well...Natsuki could think of a few things that beds were frequently used for that had absolutely nothing to do with sleeping. The thought of Shizuru "using" her bed brought a faint tinge to her cheeks.

In any case, from whatever cause, Natsuki had not slept well. She would have killed for a full ten hours of slumber. God, she had almost forgotten what it felt like! That pervading darkness, gentle and comforting, so warm, almost floating...Her eyelids drooped. Maybe she could catch a few hours here and cease to be plagued by dreams and general insomnia.

"Kruger!"  
Natsuki jumped in her seat, head snapped up painfully. Hissing softly, she rubbed the back of her neck and green eyes turned to the owner of the voice that had so startled her.

It was Tomoe.

Biting back a groan of frustration and foreboding, Natsuki sat up straight and tried to look alert. Tried and failed.

Presently, she was back at the museum in London. Midori had asked her to return to work, simply for appearances sake. The Cynthian Leader had seemed surprised at Natsuki's eagerness and, indeed, so had Natsuki herself. She had never before realized how much she appreciated having a normal life: waking up in her own cheap apartment to an alarm clock she frequently punched to 'snooze' instead of waking up to armed guards she could not punch unless she wanted a broken hand or worse, going to school, attending classes she felt were beneath her as well as those she never wanted to leave she enjoyed them so much, driving to work on her Ducati, feeling the hum of metal and leather beneath her, head low over the handles, dodging between slower vehicles on the road and ignoring the catcalls and challenging revs of those who saw a girl on a motorcycle, returning home with nothing to worry about but papers, tests, laundry, dinner and a pile of lingerie magazines to amuse her while she watched the telly - "Top Gear" was her favourite show - magazines she kept scrupulously hidden should any unexpected visitor show up at her door. (1)

She had been mortified to discover those magazines in her closet at Phaesporia one day when searching for socks. The Artemisian soldiers had been very thorough in their retrieval and arrangement of her belongings from her apartment, but she had not expected them to actually _find_ her stash of guilty-pleasures. It had been embarrassing enough knowing that unknown persons had handled her impressive supply of lingerie - down to the last lacy thong. Worse still, Shizuru, during her most recent visit to Natsuki's room, had somehow stumbled across her seemingly endless reservoir of "bodily accoutrements" as the Countess had referred to them, grinning fiendishly all the while. Shizuru had teased her mercilessly the rest of the day, even going so far as to suggest she herself "sample the modernity of Natsuki's undergarments" in a private fashion-show. And that was _after _the simulation, training-room incident, no less!

Ever since that day in the training room, less than a week ago, she had been avoiding Shizuru. Sure, Shizuru had come to her room the day after and Natsuki had let her in, hoping that she would be able to forget "the incident" as she referred to it in her head, pretending that nothing had happened as though that would make the events in the hologram vanish. Rather than forget, she had tripped over her words worse than every before, blushing at every smile, every side-long glance - blushes that the Countess had taken full advantage of. More than once, Natsuki could have sworn she had seen the barest hint, a glimmer of the desire holographic-Shizuru had so flagrantly demonstrated animating the real Shizuru's gaze during their last encounter. The very thought still made her squirm, uncomfortable. It was the same look Shizuru had given her in her apartment, right before she herself was about to become a meal. And _that_ brought on a whole host of unsavoury memories she preferred to leave untended in the back of her mind: Shizuru naked in her bath, Shizuru ripping men to pieces, Shizuru's warm breath upon her neck...

Suddenly, she realized that Tomoe's mouth had been moving and she had not heard anything she just said for the past minute or two. Based upon the perennial scowl, she was doubtlessly haranguing Natsuki about something or another. Sighing, Natsuki caught only the last few sentences of Tomoe's rant.

"...and _I_ am your superior, so don't go bothering Midori! She has more important things on her mind than the complaints of a sniveling intern...!"

_That_ was for sure, Natsuki thought dryly. Vampiric wars all across Europe took precedence over most anything else. At that, however, Natsuki realized how little she actually knew about the Head Curator. Was she married? Did she have children? A family? Surely, it could not be so far-fetched, after all Shizuru herself had borne children and been married. Why not Midori? Then again, Midori's personal life was hardly any of her business. Still...there must have been a story behind her place among the Artemisians; nobody joins an organization like the Cynthian Company without some sort of motive.

"Are you listening to me?"

Natsuki blinked, surprised to find those gray eyes intently boring into her own, scrutinizing, "Yes, Tomoe," she replied flatly, too tired to resist, "I'm listening."

Those brows contracted in a deeper frown before Tomoe turned abruptly on her heel, "Good. Now get back to work."

"Yes, Tomoe."

If anything, she seemed more infuriated by Natsuki's compliance. And that made absolutely no sense. Wasn't Tomoe always on her case about being rebellion and disobedient? Yet the moment Natsuki started taking orders without complaint, Tomoe became even more irritated.

She sighed as Tomoe rounded the corner. Her boots dug into the beige carpet as she used her feet to push herself back to her station in the swivel chair. She had a sort of love-hate relationship with this chair. A cheap, yellow plastic contraption, the lever which controlled its height had been broken by the last intern to use it so that it hung far too low to the ground for anyone's comfort but a dwarf's. Therefore, she either had the choice of keeping her knees bent at an acute angle so that her thighs jutted upwards, or of leaving her legs sprawled before her. The latter was no option when seated at her work-bench - a long, cantilevered plank of painted pine that jutted out from the wall only about a third of a meter - since her legs were too long and always hit the wall. After the first few hours of experimentation upon her arrival at the museum, Natsuki had taken to leaving one leg bent and the other jutting to the side, the positions of which she switched when necessary so as to maximize blood-flow to her feet; she had absolutely no desire to have her toes fall off, thank you very much.

Her work space was a well-lit, narrow rectangular room with white-washed walls, old wooden cabinets and a too-small supply closet at the far end. The few modern fixtures of the room were the fume-hood on her right opposite a bulky Xerox machine, the new computer on her left with its flat monitor and cheap keyboard and matching mouse the same colour as the carpet all three of which were probably from the early nineties if not before that, and the large mechanical object directly behind her that she called simply: the "picture machine". For that was what it did. It took pictures. If ever a customer wished for certain pages in a book, for example, the book in question would be brought out from the vault (carefully monitored to be the right temperature and humidity at all times and accessed by a numerical pad the combination of which changed monthly) and placed beneath the large lens upon the flat metal platform. The machine would then need to be properly calibrated and a picture taken of the pages that would then print from the Xerox machine. It was, of course, a necessity in a museum and could also be found in small, rare-book collections where the materials were too old and/or damaged to be pressed up against the glass of a copier and further damaged by the stress and high light exposure.

Other than these few mechanisms, Natsuki was sure the room had remained exactly the same but for, perhaps, a new coat of paint here and there and new carpeting every thirty years or so - thought the floor might as well have been made of wood, the carpet was so stiff. Still, it was better than a shaggy carpet that would have caught on the wheels of her chair. This way, she got to whiz around the room from platform to platform, chair creaking as she pushed herself from the fume-hood and back again to the computer for more data entry.

She was cataloguing a recently excavated horde of Viking silver in the form of various pins and brooches. A lock of hair fell into her eyes as she typed and she tucked it behind an ear. That morning she had been too tired to shower and instead settled on tying her hair back in a pony-tail after she had groggily stepped into the same clothes she had worn the day before: blue jeans, her customary black boots, and a simple black t-shirt beneath a worn gray jacket with a hood that slumped down her upper back. Currently, the jacket was slung over the back of her chair, one scuffed sleeve dragging along the floor.

The light of the computer screen made her retinae burn even more. When she closed her eyes, they still ached, almost more so from the sudden plunge into darkness, the same way warm water makes icy hands ache. Her knuckles dug once more into the dark circles of bruised skin beneath her half-lidded, blood-shot eyes. She felt another yawn coming on.

"Tired?"

"Yea...I - " Natsuki froze. Rotating slowly in her seat, she almost yelped at the sight behind her.

There Shizuru sat, calm as can be, legs crossed, atop the Xerox machine, surveying Natsuki over a sheet of paper in her hands.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?" she asked, voice just short of yelling.

Shizuru tsked, admonishing, "My, my, Natsuki! You really must lower your voice. You wouldn't want that woman returning, would you?"

Throwing a nervous glance over her shoulder at where Tomoe had exited not long before, she hissed, "How - ? But - ? Where is your guard? Does Midori know you're here?"

The Countess waved away the questions dismissively, "Those Artemisians wouldn't notice a fly were it buzzing around in those impenetrable helmets of theirs. Here," she leaped to the ground, landing light and sure-footed as a feline, and kissed the paper in her hands before handing it to Natsuki, "A present for you."

Snatching the paper from Shizuru's hands, she looked down at it and felt a blush creep into her cheeks. It was a Xerox of Shizuru's rear from when she had been sitting atop the machine, the page recently decorated with bright red lip imprints on the lower left cheek, "I hope you like it," Shizuru purred, teasing.

Furious, Natsuki crumpled the paper between her palms and threw it in the trash bin at her feet. It bounced off the rim and rolled to the floor, "I'm hurt!" Shizuru pouted, crossed her arms beneath her breasts and angling her body away slightly in a purposefully childish display of displeasure.

"Oh, shut up!" Natsuki snapped, remaining seated though she suspected that the best course of action would be to flee before Shizuru got any ideas. Not that she'd get very far. The constant presence of Cynthian soldiers had allowed her to feel at least somewhat secure in Shizuru's presence. Now she just felt like a trapped and cornered wolf. Or perhaps a deer ready to be speared, "How did you even escape Phaesporia?"

Red eyes shone with mirth and Shizuru's body shimmered out of view, reappearing seated on the work-bench, one leg perched coquettishly upon an arm of Natsuki's chair, "Escape? Whatever do you mean, Natsuki? I walked out the front door."

"You mean..." Natsuki frowned down at the leg near her arm, resisting the temptation to run her eyes along the shapely length of it, or worse, her hands, "They let you out?"

"Not exactly," she admitted.

Tired emerald eyes, still bright and luminous despite their owner's lack of sleep, widened and Natsuki shoved away the foot that had just begun to slowly trace her forearm with one toe, "Did...Did you kill them?" She asked in a whisper, horrified at what the answer might be.

Shizuru snorted and abandoned her task of caressing Natsuki, instead resolving herself to crossing her legs in order to reveal a generous portion of her creamy right thigh, a movement that did not go unnoticed, she was pleased to see, "Don't be ridiculous, Natsuki."

"Then - !"

"You've been avoiding me of late. Don't think I haven't noticed," Shizuru had suddenly become stern, reprimanding, "I came here today because I merely wished to talk to you without that Callisto friend of yours warding me off at every possible juncture."

_Oops_.

And here Natsuki had thought she was being discreet about it. Discretion, she had discovered long ago, was not her forte. It was true, she had set Mai about the task of keeping Shizuru away with lame excuses about being "busy" or having a headache or something of the sort, a task Mai was more than happy to perform. She had hoped to not be so dreadfully obvious, but it seemed that she was as transparent as cellophane in these matters. Matters in which she had little to no experience in. She couldn't even remember the last time she had felt...Well...She didn't exactly know how she felt, to be honest. That, or she didn't want to give it a name as of yet. To give it a name would make it that much more real and she preferred it as an abyssal anomaly of sensations and thoughts that twisted her gut. It was far safer that way.

"Perhaps I took it too far with your undergarments..." Shizuru was musing to herself, tapping her chin in a thoughtful manner.

"No, that's not it."

Wait. What was she saying? Of _course_ that had been too far!

Grimacing, she burst out, "I mean - ! Uh - ! Yes! That was a bit too far. More than a bit, really...But that's not - !"

She trailed off. Shizuru was watching her and listening expectantly.

Damn! What was she doing! Shut up, Natsuki. Shut up. Shut up. You don't want her to know about 'the incident' do you? No. Of course not. That would be...Her mind searched frantically for a word. Relieving? No. NO. Definitely not relieving. Complicating? Yes. Humiliating? Yes. Dangerous? Oh, dear Lord, yes. But relieving...? Maybe just a tiny bit...?

No. No. Definitely not.

Or at least, that's what she told herself.

She needed something to distract them. Something to turn the conversation onto anything else.

"_Kruger!"_

Footsteps, loud and angry footsteps, approached from down the hall. Tomoe would be upon them at any moment.

Cursing quietly, Natsuki jumped to her feet. Head snapping around in every direction, she saw the supply closet at the end of the room and before another second was wasted, she grabbed Shizuru by the arm and dragged her into the cramped space. The door shut soundlessly behind them, the latch sliding into place just as Tomoe stormed into the room. Shizuru's eyes glowed faintly through the gloom, though not enough to illuminate the space around them. Natsuki's back was jammed uncomfortably into a shelf filled with boxes of pens and post-it notes. The university student scarcely breathed as she heard Tomoe growling about outside like an enraged lioness, muttering to herself about "that Kruger's" insolence. Soon, just a half-dozen heartbeats later, Tomoe departed and Natsuki heaved a great sigh of relief. She relaxed, the arms at her side dropping.

That movement would prove to be a near fatal mistake.

As her arms lowered rapidly, her left hand came into swift contact with a ragged corner of one of the metal shelves, effectively slicing a small portion of her digit. It was nothing more than a scratch, really, but it was enough.

Scarlet light shone forth, twin lanterns burning bright in the hands of a lifeless ferry-man. The darkness blended with the brightness until they seemed as one, until the shadows swirled about them tainted with a crimson hue. Natsuki was wrenched forward, her injured hand lifted up in a painful grasp. Shizuru's grip upon her wrist was so strong, she might as well have been wrapped in corrugated steel. She felt more than saw the slow trickle of a single drop of blood roll down her ring-finger, pooling at the knuckles.

A strange sound filled the space between them. It was a sort of whine, a high-pitched whimper, the kind of sound a kicked dog made. In the eerie half-light, Natsuki could see Shizuru's face. It bore an agonising expression. Her pale brows were furrowed as though someone were dragging a white-hot poker across her shoulders. Her lips were parted slightly and short, ragged pants escaped her. She was shivering, it showed in her hands. Tremors wracked her entire body and still that terrible gaze was fixed, immovable as a mountain, upon the blood.

Try as she might, Natsuki could not move. She had been struck into a state of fearfully reverent silence, similar to when Shizuru had offered her hand back at the apartment. Struggling would have accomplished nothing, only goaded the beast further.

As Shizuru raised Natsuki's hand, her tongue peeked out. It was no different from any other's tongue but for the single discrepancy in colour. Deeper in red that was a human's wont, almost maroon, it looked like a tense, bloodied blade flashing from its sheath in a smooth draw. The very tip alone touched the small droplet of blood and slowly ran up along the length of Natsuki's finger, making her shiver. It was a warm, steady lap all the way to the tiny wound upon the pad of one of her fingers. Shizuru gasped at the taste and her gaze burned brighter until the darkness leaped around them in an eldritch parade. Puffs of hot breath collected in Natsuki's palm as the Creature of Ecsed panted. Another piteous whine, more animal than human, escaped Shizuru before she drew Natsuki's injured finger into her mouth and sucked.

Natsuki winced in anticipation as keen fangs brushed her delicate skin, but they did not pierce as she had originally expected. The moist muscles of Shizuru's mouth contract and released, contracted and released, gently taking in any excess blood with a pulling warmth. Wisps of air blew across the back of her fingers as Shizuru puffed lightly through her nose while she worked. As soon as that strongly muscled tongue began to wriggle and writhe expertly over the surface of her finger, however, tickling with teasing strokes, Natsuki jerked back in spite of herself.

The brilliant darkness pulsed in response to her sharp motion, no longer like a soothing embrace, but menacing as swiftly as an eclipse or a passing cloud between the sun. An unholy snarl wrenched from Shizuru's throat and her lips peeled back in a feral gesture of baring her teeth. Those scarlet eyes, so livid, threatened to consume her.

Without warning, something flickered across Shizuru's face. In a blur, the door was thrown open and she sped out of the closet, leaving her prey alone. Still in shock, Natsuki remained momentarily pressed against the shelves before the breath she had been unconsciously holding whooshed out of her and she had trouble staying on her feet.

She had thought she was a goner. So close...She had been so close to being severed from that fragile thing called life and it left her sapped of all strength.

Staggering from the supply-closet - the air within shimmering with heat like an oven, or more appropriately, a cage, a slice of Hell containing the fiery river, Phlegethon - Natsuki wiped a shaking arm across her brow, surprised to find no sweat gathered there. (2) Odd. Those last few seconds had seared hot enough to peel the flesh from her bones and reduce her to a quivering mass of melted sinew, yet she had not even broken a sweat. Right then, however, that was the least of her worries.

Shizuru was bent over the work table, elbows resting heavily upon it as she clutched her head in her hands. She was still trembling and wisps of shadow rose from her, rippling off the surface of her pale skin like living steam. While Natsuki watched, the dancing shadows began to shrink, withdrawing into Shizuru as though sinking back into the depths of the underworld. After they had all receded, Shizuru took a long breath to steady herself and straightened.

"Forgive me," she did not turn to face Natsuki and she had to clear her throat as it cracked before continuing, "That was...not my intention. Forgive me."

Natsuki did not reply. She remained leaning against the frame of the closet door, speechless.

Smoothing back her hair by running her fingers through it, Shizuru still seemed to be collecting herself, "We should return to Phaesporia. I wouldn't be surprised if Midori has not already sent troops after us."

Laughing weakly, Natsuki found her voice, "Yea, I can't imagine why she would feel the need to do that."

Her scathing words had no visible effect on the Countess, though it was difficult to tell since she refused to turn and face her, "I will meet you downstairs. I think it best if we return together."

She grunted in reply, "Sure."

Truth be told, she didn't think she could operate her Ducati just yet.

One moment, Shizuru was standing in the centre of the room, presence as regal as ever, and the next she was gone. Only a slight stirring of the air gave any physical proof that she had been there at all.

The computer chimed happily as Natsuki shut it down. She switched the fume-hood off as well, the constant hum dying away. Routine helped. Routine made her feel normal, made her feel as though nothing out of the ordinary or remotely life-threatening had occurred. Her heart pounded in her chest even now until her ears rang. Her vision swam and she clutched the back of her chair for support as she resisted a swoon.

She needed to sleep. God, she needed to sleep. All she wanted was a few hours. Just an hour, even. But she was going back to Phaesporia and there was no sweet slumber to be had there. The very thought of returning to those metallic halls, burnished bright, stinging her sensitive eyes, made her feel dizzy with grief. She would not allow herself to weep, though. Never here. Never in public.

The swiftest descent into madness is obtained through sleep deprivation. She had heard that somewhere before - she could not remember where - and she believed it. Four days. Four days of nothing but scattered winks of slumber. Already she could feel reality slipped from her grasp. Perhaps this was all just a dream. Perhaps she would wake up soon, in her own bed, alone at last.

Sniffling, Natsuki swung her coat over her shoulders and scrubbed at her face, clearing the blossoming tears, as she strode from her work place.

The scene that greeted her in the employee parking lot made her feel physically ill. Now, she no longer wanted to sleep. Now, she wanted to huddle in a hot shower and cry until there were no tears left.

Just as she had said, Shizuru was waiting for her, standing beside her Ducati. What was not expected, though, was another person accompanying her. Worse, another vampire. Natsuki didn't know how she could tell, but she just knew. The two socialized easily, conversing lightly. And as Natsuki approached, weary, she heard the other say, "...then allow me to be the first to welcome you to London, my Lady. Come! I shall escort you and your charge," he gestured magnanimously to Natsuki, smiling, gracious, "to the Council of Three."

* * *

**(1): Top Gear = You know, I never expected to like that show when I heard about it. A show about cars, I thought, was not for me. After a single episode, however, I realized how much of a mistake I'd made. Top Gear is an awesome show. Gods above, those Brits really DO have a sense of humour! :P**

**(2): Phlegethon = The River of Fire. In Classical mythology there are five rivers of the underworld: Acheron, Cocytus, Styx, Phlegethon and Lethe. The most famous, of course, is the Styx, thanks to Dante Alighieri and the 70s rock band. (As a side note, I love the band. I also love frequently getting their songs stuck in other peoples' heads, an act that often vexes my friends. But that's ok. They love me anyway.).**

**I hope you liked it! If you feel so inclined, by all means drop me a review. I love reviews and I take your advice under great consideration.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Greetings again, my friends! I have just finished this next chapter, and I think this is the only one thus far that has no footnotes. That is an accomplishment unto itself, in my opinion. Normally, my writing is so positively riddled with vague allusions, both classical and modern, that I feel often rather bad for my poor readers. Hence the footnotes for some explanation. However, they also serve as some personal ranting space, as y'alls have probably noticed in the past. I do try to be as unbiased as possible, though I know it is difficult. Fear not, though, my friends! Everything in this chapter is pretty straightforward in terms of writing style and allusions made. If you still find yourself up against something that you don't understand, then I am sorry, but you'll have to type it into google to read into it.**

**That being said, I hope you are all having a wonderful summer!**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

Mai stormed through the halls of Phaesporia, face dark with anger. More than anger. Fury. She was Tisiphone, raging on a murderous rampage. She was Allecto, spurning raving men to war, women to slaughter their husbands and innocent children as they returned from battles upon the plains of Troy. But there was a hint of fear there as well, marring her otherwise perfect, contemptuously confident ire. For all her wrath, Mai was afraid. She was afraid for herself, for the members of the Cynthian Company, but most of all for Natsuki.

She may have manipulated Natsuki at first, but she had come to genuinely enjoy the girl's company. Had it not been for this whole mess of supernatural beings running about like a gaggle of rabid, bloodthirsty geese swarming, she and Natsuki could have been real friends that had not met based upon contrived circumstances. The thought made her stomach twinge guiltily. Yes, she had been assigned to befriend Natsuki and, if that failed, to stay close to her in whatever way she could, but that did not mean she cared nothing for her. Natsuki was a good person. Stubborn. Perhaps even a bit bull-headed. Hell, what was she thinking? More than a _bit_ bull-headed. But still, a dedicated, fiercely loyal person she was glad to call friend. Once you were a member of the pack, you were a member for life and Natsuki would do anything to defend and help you. That Mai's position as such might be compromised by her own misguided duplicity had made her extremely uneasy of late. More so now that Natsuki was among them. She never wanted Natsuki to know of the true origin of their friendship.

In order for there to be a friendship at all though, there would need to be a friend. Right now, Mai was not so sure that Natsuki was completely out of harm's reach.

She had just gotten wind of Viola's little vanishing act, hence her current state of agitation. At first, the sentries had thought it a malfunction of the cameras when Viola's image had suddenly gone in what might as well have been a puff of smoke for all the evidence she left behind. Upon further analysis, it was determined that Viola was, indeed, no longer in the vicinity and the District Officer, namely Mai, had been immediately informed.

And now Mai was angry. Worried and angry. A bad combination. She couldn't remember feeling this way since Kanzaki...

No. She wouldn't think about that. Not now. She needed to focus. She needed to not let past events contort her feelings, her thoughts, her judgment.

Not bothering to knock, she burst into Midori's personal quarters. The Cynthian Leader had not been in her office nor in the conference room. Since the hour was late - past six in the evening - Mai had assumed the worst and headed for Midori's room, expecting to find her sunk in a bottle of liquor.

She wasn't far off.

Midori was seated on the floor, leaning against the foot of the large squashy couch in the middle of her lounge. Her auburn head just peeked out over the top. Mai couldn't see her face. She made no other movement as Mai entered loudly but to reach for the half-empty bottle of vodka - Kettle One - and take a large swig, the clear, potent liquid swishing around its glass container.

"What is it, Mai?" her voice was hard as flint, "I'm assuming it's Mai since I'd have anyone else strung up by their thumbs and flayed. Unless it's Nao. In that case, leave your report on my bed and get out." She gestured broadly with the arm that held the vodka and threw back another mouthful of the alcohol.

"Artemis," Mai began and saw Midori's head twitch. If she hadn't known better, she'd have thought Midori winced at the codename, "Viola has escaped."

Midori said nothing for a few long seconds. Finally she rose to her feet, leaving the bottle of vodka upon the floor to be delved into at a later date. As she stood she tucked a worn and faded picture into her breast pocket, creased from having been folded and bent in various places, which she had apparently been gazing at in peace before Mai interrupted her. Mai could not see what or who it depicted, but it must have been precious to her. Straightening the lapels of her white suit, Midori rolled her neck which cracked and popped before turning. Everything she wore was white. From the white leather shoes, to the white silk shirt and crooked tie. In gold stitching upon the tie was the sunburst insignia of Phaesporia which glinted in the light not unlike Midori's sharp eyes. She may have been drinking, but she didn't show it.

Striding briskly forward, Midori was all business now that her full attention was required for the situation at hand. Her tone was brisk and commanding as she corrected her tie with sure hands, "You have already assembled troops?" At Mai's nod, she walked from the room never breaking her stride, followed closely by her District Officer, "Good. Let's go."

Lights flashed by the windows as the sleek, silver Rolls Royce sped through the city of London. It was a short drive, she knew, from Trafalgar Square to Parliament, just a quick little detour down Whitehall, but the drive felt immensely longer than that. It must have been the present company. Though her spinning head might have had something to do with it. The two vampires were amicable enough, though they made her uneasy. As they should. She would be more worried if she felt completely relaxed. That would be the day she died.

Still her and Shizuru's 'host' seemed to be a most cordial fellow. He was seated across from them upon the black-leather seats, legs crossed in a rather feminine manner and a faint smile seemed to be perpetually fixed on his face. It was, by no means, a fake smile however, "Forgive me for not introducing myself. I am Herr Edwin Eberhard Württemberg. But you, my Lady," he gestured politely towards Shizuru, "may call me Edwin, if it so pleases you."

Shizuru smiled and nodded her head in a slight bow, "Many thanks, Herr Edwin. I am Katharina Adelina Wenckheim, and this is my companion, Natsuki Kruger. We have just recently arrived from Austria."

His warm hazel eyes lit up, "Ah! Fellow German descendants, yes? Always a pleasure to be among kin."

He took first Shizuru's hand then Natsuki's between both of his own in a genuinely pleased greeting. His palms were warm and dry, soothingly so, and his kindly smile put considerate wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth. His sandy brown hair, flecked lightly with gray at the temples, was combed neatly to the side like a 1940s schoolboy with a ruler-straight part down the left to the crown of his head. In his impeccable grey suit and dark blue tie, he looked more like a fatherly businessman just back from work or, perhaps, a much loved professor. A slight accent remained, though it was faint yet undeniably German.

"When did you find yourself in England, Herr Edwin?" Shizuru asked, leaning her head upon her hand, elbow propped gracefully against the windowsill.

"Ah!" he sat back, opening his hands in a gesture similar to a bard's, as though he were about to launch into an epic tale, "Many years ago. It was under the reign of Napoleon that I ventured to the British Isles to offer assistance with the French." He chuckled lightly, the pellucid smile never erring, and as he spoke he made soft signals with his hands, guiding the short tale along like one working with a piece of long cloth, "Me and mine in Germany were no enemies of Napoleon, per se, but we sympathised with England and wished to offer our support. After all, we were no fans of being ruled by a foreign monarch. And a French one, at that."

"Yet you were Turned here?" Natsuki asked. She didn't know what had possessed her to join the conversation. God knows, the safest thing to do have done would have been to shut her mouth and pretend she didn't exist and pray she got out of this mess alive. Instead, somehow emboldened by fatigue, she chimed in. Shizuru's gaze snapped upon her and burned in warning. Lady Luck was with her this night, however, for the German nobleman did not seem to have taken offense. Indeed, he gladly accepted Natsuki, a human, into their talk.

"Exactly so!" His hand raised upwards in a manner similar to a preacher pointing to the heavens, generously histrionic but not in a vexing fashion, "But, how could I return when I had just become a member of House Árpádok? That was Graceburt territory. It still is. However, with some persuasion I was able to have my wife, Anitra, brought to me." At the mention of his wife, his smile softened, "Such an understanding woman! I am luckier than most, you know. She agreed to be Turned by me and remains at my side to this very day. Funnily enough," he laughed, "We had been having some difficulties conceiving a child, but after we both became what we are we were more prolific than we could have ever dreamed. I now have six sons to my name. Six." He nodded, holding up six fingers on both of his hands, "Not to mention my three beautiful girls. They're every father's worst nightmare."

Shizuru laughed lightly, "Truly, you are blessed, _mein freund_. I myself had three children before I was Turned, though I could not bear to face them afterwards."

His answering nod was solemn and understanding, "Of course. It is a most difficult transition. Still, now you have this lovely companion." He motioned to both of them, "Unless I am incorrect in the assumption that you two are..._together_, then please, forgive me."

"No forgiveness is required," Shizuru reached over and took Natsuki's hand in her own, entwining their fingers together. Natsuki allowed her to do so, even clenching her fingers in response as the Countess pressed them. Their eyes met over their hands and Shizuru had the most tender of expressions on her face. Natsuki only wished - a faint, far off wish induced by her hazy mind - that the look was sincere, "Natsuki and I have been together for...Oh, now how long has it been, darling? A year?"

A grin spread across Natsuki's face and she leaned in towards Shizuru, purring, "A year? Now I think you don't care about me! Our second anniversary is coming up soon."

"How could I forget?" Shizuru asked, a modicum of surprise in her gaze at how quickly Natsuki caught on to their game in such a fatigued state. That or she was caught off guard by how close they suddenly were.

Natsuki may have pressed a kiss, chaste, to Shizuru's cheek for she could vaguely sense something smooth, soft and warm on her lips, like a heady drought. She may have, but that also might have been just a part of her imagination. Similar to the way the lights outside careened and whirled, stars in the endless dance of night through the hurtling universe. Similar to the way the thrumming of her pulse made her entire body vibrate beneath the flesh. Similar to the way Big Ben shot upwards into the sky, a lengthless spear forever rising like a bright meteor, as the car pulled up to Parliament.

The front door of the car could be heard opening and closing as the driver, a human, exited and went around the Rolls Royce to open the left rear door nearest to Shizuru. She stepped gracefully from the vehicle first, trailed by a stumbling Natsuki who grabbed at Shizuru's arm for support.

"Careful now," Herr Edwin said, appearing behind them, looking at Natsuki with concern, "Are you feeling unwell, Frau Kruger?"  
"She's simply tired," Shizuru answered for her, seeing the glazed look about Natsuki's face, "I'm afraid that the trip took its toll upon her. I often forget she is human."

Natsuki nodded weakly in affirmation.

"Then I shall lead you to your rooms," he held out his arm to usher them towards Parliament, "There she can rest."

Shizuru put her arm around Natsuki's waist and bowed her head in thanks.

They walked and Natsuki only had the faintest idea of where they were going. Had it not been for Shizuru's strong arm, she would have long since staggered into a wall or pillar or tripped down on of the many sets of stairs. There were many stairs, that much she could register. That and the warmth of Shizuru's body pressed up against her own. Her feet often tangled up with one another and it took a great deal of strength not to let them take her to the floor and lay down, slumped in a corner. Torches flared along the walls, their flames circled by brilliant rings of crystalline light, spheres of luminescence that clashed together in her vision, thrusting their spiked curves into stone walls the colour of burnt sand. People passed them as they walked, vampires mostly, though they were littered with the occasional human attendant or consort. All seemed to be striding shadows with faces that loomed out at her as they passed. Their eyes all seemed to sear an embrous red and fixate upon her. Their voices murmured, then rose to a wailing crescendo and descended once more to a faint whisper through the gloomy halls. The air rushed behind them, slapping her directly across the cheeks until they burned as though physically struck by an open hand. She watched in fascination as their clothes flared out behind them, winging with the shadowy air, flapping and snapping taut then flowing freely in non-existent winds, great gusts that dragged the darkness and the light together just as surely as Shizuru did but without the same measure of potency. Somewhere in the distance a wolf howled, raising its voice in a three-throated cry.

And then they were alone in a quiet room that resounded with silence and the sound of Natsuki's heavy breathing, rasping louder in her own ears. She could not remember Herr Edwin leaving them just as she could not remember stepping into the room itself. Just as she could not remember her limbs collapsing as a rumpled heap into Shizuru's arms.

Soft hands caressed her head; fingers curled in her hair and stroked down, brushing it smooth. Her own hands clutched weakly at Shizuru's back and her head was buried in Shizuru's shoulder, her nose lightly brushing the silken skin of Shizuru's neck. She smelled of oriental teas, light herbs, a lavender and rosemary garden basking in the sun, morning dew still collected in their fragrant boughs like many diamond droplets winking from afar.

"Warm..." She mumbled, emerald eyes fluttering shut.

She dimly heard Shizuru speaking tenderly, "Not yet, Natsuki...You can't sleep just yet..."

"Mmm...?" Natsuki felt herself rousing against her will as something shook her gently, her head bobbing back and forth, "Five more minutes..."

Shizuru sighed as Natsuki's forehead flopped back onto her shoulder and nuzzled into her neck. The girl was impossible in this state. Not to mention completely helpless. She could have easily taken advantage of her and was sorely tempted to do so, but refrained. However, the thought did spark an idea in her mind. She knew exactly how to get Natsuki moving again aside from dousing the girl with cold water. Should her first plan fail - and she mildly wanted it to purely for the satisfaction of witnessing the shock on Natsuki's face - she would have to resort to filling the bath with ice water and tossing the girl in. Then again, wouldn't her first plan technically be taking advantage of Natsuki? Part of her tried to deny it while another part pouted that she couldn't take her first course of action without feeling a bit guilty, which was to kiss the girl senseless until the blood started pumping through her again, which it undoubtedly would have.

But why should she feel guilty about that at all? She was Countess Báthory Violàsz, the Creature of Ecsed, the Vampyre! She had killed more people than she even cared to remember, burned houses with whole families locked inside, razed whole villages and cities, feasted irreverently upon the blood of the fallen, stolen the lives of men and boys alike as they pleaded for mercy upon the battlefield, taken girls from their husbands, their fathers, their families for her own pleasures be they sexual, bloody or both. And now she was hesitating? For what? For a human girl she had just met a week past?

But Natsuki wasn't quite human, was she? No. There had been something there, in her blood, the blood she had been privilege to taste not long ago. Humans did not have such raw _substance_ to their mortal fluids, the kind of richness that sparked and lingered on the tongue for days afterwards, the kind of lavishness that filled her with a single mouthful. Shizuru had never tasted anything like it before. Drinking from normal humans was like eating pistachios: she could finish a whole bowl and not feel sated. Drinking from Natsuki however, was something else entirely. Even now, after only a few drops, she felt that the thirst had been abated and would remain so for at least a week. Usually, she required a legion of men to feel so...quenched.

Something told her that she had sensed this from the very moment she met Natsuki, down in the basement of the museum. It was in her scent, she decided. That earthy scent, like fields of black loam beneath an eternal sunset, in the centre a sprawling tree granting cool shade to those who sat beneath it, while in the distance purpling mountains marched by, trailing their swirling cloaks of fog. Ah, that empyreal smell! So fine! So singularly exquisite!

Before she could stop herself, she pressed her nose to Natsuki's temple and inhaled deeply. She wanted to bathe in the source of that scent, wanted to slit that fragile throat, hang her above a porcelain basin and wash herself in the resultant downpour, splashing hot and quick upon her naked body. She wanted to -

Jerking back, Shizuru held Natsuki at arms length. That dark head rolled forward, delicate chin drooping upon her chest.

No. She couldn't do that. She had to find out what Natsuki was. The fact that she didn't know made her...apprehensive. Yes, she desired the girl as well, but she had desired many others before. That shouldn't have played so large a part in her hesitation, yet it did. Again, hints of Nina, the memory of her, refused to leave her in peace. She lingered in the way Natsuki walked, the way she enunciated her consonants and used them to leap onto the next vowel, jumping, skipping through words, the expression that frequented her face, so varied, so infinitely entertaining, the proud bearing of her fine shoulders, the tilt of her eyes, the sheer intensity of her gaze.

Yet Natsuki was not Nina. Shizuru knew that. Natsuki was Natsuki, and whatever that entailed she would wait. She would see this puzzle through to the very end. Shizuru had no fear of death. If this was to be her last, then she would make it a grand finale to be the envy of the world.

With that in mind, she thought that she might as well enjoy herself while she was about it. Besides, Natsuki was ever so amusing. If for nothing else, then Natsuki could substitute as a source of her entertainment. And her desire. Shizuru had not been with a willing partner who was not interested in her wealth or her power in many, _many_ years. Perhaps Natsuki could be seduced. If past results with the girl meant anything, they showed that her chances of success were promising.

That would mean not frightening the poor girl. Which, in turn, would mean no preemptive strikes. Which would mean no kiss at the moment.

Growling softly to herself in disappointment, Shizuru effortlessly picked up Natsuki beneath one arm and stomped over to the washroom. There, she flipped the walk-in shower on and stuck Natsuki's head under the frigid torrent. With a gasp, the girl's form shot upright, body tense. She rounded upon Shizuru, eyes blazing forth with all the fury of an emerald winter storm, dark strands of wet hair clinging to her cheeks and brow.

"What the _fuck_ - !"

Ah, yes...Shizuru had been right. Natsuki's indignant face was most definitely worth it. Though a kiss would have been better, to be sure. She interrupted Natsuki's angry exclamation, "I told you, Natsuki, you can't sleep yet. But you wouldn't listen, so I was forced - by you - to resort to more drastic measures."

"Forced my ass! I _-_ !"

"You are in grave danger," Shizuru finished for her.

That certainly shut her up.

Those forest green eyes turned from raging to pleading, "But...I was finally asleep..." She still looked very haggard and the look she gave - oh, that piteous expression! - made Shizuru want to let her go back to sleep so she could cuddle her whilst she slumbered.

But she couldn't indulge in that just now. She needed to act quickly; Natsuki would be falling back to sleep at any moment. Natsuki could not sleep here, this place was too dangerous when she did not even know what kind of person was in control, and she could not handle the situation with Natsuki nearby - the risks were too great leaving her in the room and they were too great taking her along. If what Midori told her was true, then Reito and Maria were nearby or would be very soon.

"Natsuki. Listen to me," she seized the girl's chin and lifted it so that those green eyes looked directly into her own. She could see the despair there, poorly hidden behind tiredness, "You need to get out of here."

"But..." Question danced in those eyes now, question and doubt, "How?"

Shizuru smiled gently, not enough to reveal teeth, just a slight tilt of the lips, "Just as I did from Phaesporia. Out the front door."

Those eyes regarded her as though she had lost her mind. She chuckled, "Don't worry, Natsuki. You will be just fine. I promise. You just need to say that you are fetching something for your Mistress outside. My scent is upon you, marking you as mine. Nobody should stop you from leaving."

Unless the girl were to run across Maria or Reito, that was. Shizuru wondered if any others were still alive that would recognize her smell upon Natsuki. It was unlikely. Tate was dead. But what of Shiho...? Midori had never mentioned Munakata's fate.

"Do not speak unless spoken to," she continued firmly, hand trailing down to Natsuki's shoulder in spite of herself, "Do not engage in small-talk. We were lucky with Herr Edwin, but I fear very few of my kind are so lenient. Once you are outside, hail a taxi, go back to the museum. Call Mai and wait there. Do not, under any circumstances, return to Phaesporia or your apartment. It is possible that you may be followed. The museum is innocuous enough and you are familiar with it. If necessary, hide in the vault where you found me. Nobody will think to look there. Do you understand?"

Natsuki simply stared at her, stunned by the speed and amount of orders she had just received. Her sleepy brain was obviously struggling to process all the information being thrown at her.

"Natsuki," Shizuru shook her shoulder, bringing her back to attention, "Do you understand?"

She needed affirmation.

The girl nodded slowly.

"Good."

Leading Natsuki to the door, Shizuru opened it and nudged Natsuki in the direction they had just come. The girl started forward hesitantly, shot one last heart-wrenchingly tired look at her, then started off on her own. Shutting the door, Shizuru leaned upon it, head resting back in a pillow of honeyed hair. Her eyes closed and she prayed. She prayed to Night that Natsuki would get out alive.

When her eyes shot open once more, they were furious holocausts. The shadows danced beneath her skin, begging for release and the air around her crackled with unshed thunder. She smiled. It was a slow, spreading smile. Chilling and murderous.

It was time to pay a visit to old friends.

* * *

**And now...to prepare for a war.**

**Truly and epic one at that! Homer and Ammianus Marcellinus will be green with envy! Ilium and Hadrianople have nothing on what I have in store for y'alls.**

**Hope y'all liked it!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Summer break is officially over. Now it's back to that old grindstone, taking summer courses and working. *sigh*. BUT, the good news is that now I have more time to write! Eugapae! (That's Latin for, 'Hooray' and it's pronounced "you-gah-pie" Hehe. It gets me every time...).**

**Now, onto more important matters.**

**I am a purist. In many respects. I hate it when the dishes of food on my plate touch. I like my tea like I like my coffee: black and unadulterated. I despise Church Latin - no really. Detest it. I'm a Classicist, by Jove! Not some Vatican-Italian-Latin mongrel! And I also am very particular about my pairings of people in my fanfics. To be perfectly clear, I am a ShizNat fan, one of many I can tell. I am not, however, a fan of NatxNao, ShizxNao, NatxMidori, NatxMai, ShizxReito, ShizxTomoe, NatxDuran, ShizxNatxMaixNaoxentire Mai-HIME cast or whatever other pairings there might be out there. (Btw, NatxDuran? Is there even a fanfic out there with that pairing? Wait...don't tell me. I don't want to know...).**

**You get the point.**

**Now, why am I saying this? Well, I actually read my reviews (shocking, I know) and there has been some speculation about a NatxMai pairing. I'm sorry to break it to you, m'dears, but no. Not under my watch. So! Apologies, but I have other plans for our dear Mai that most certainly do NOT involve getting into Natsuki's pants. That's Shizuru's territory. In fact, I think Shizuru would, quite literally, eat Mai were she to attempt such a thing in this universe. And not in the good way, either, if you get my drift...**

**Alas! Let us have a moment of grievous silence for what was lost here, in these very paragraphs...Ok. We good? Good. The show must go on, I say!**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

"Name?"

Natsuki blinked at the large, beefy man - yet another vampire - one of two that guarded the entrance to Parliament. Somehow, she knew not exactly how she had wandered the halls, hiking up stairs and down dimly lit corridors, head bowed, gaze lowered, trying her best to look as innocent and inconspicuous as was humanly possible, and finally ending up here after what seemed like hours of heart-racing walking. Heart-racing in the pejorative sense.

"Uh..." she mumbled, "Natsuki Kruger."

At this, the guard flipped his thumb along the tablet computer screen in his broad hands. That's right. She could vaguely remember Herr Edwin having their names logged into the electronic guest list when they had first entered Parliament. God, but that seemed so long ago. Nervous green eyes, blood-shot, flicked to the heavy metal door engraved with a complex scene of what seemed to be King Henry IV in the War of the Roses and back to the guard. His eyes were a dull red and she registered in the back of her spinning mind that he must be about an Eighth Gen. Perhaps a Ninth. But seeing as this was the Council of Three, he could have been higher, created specifically to be as strong as many of the vampire nobles that he would be guarding.

Having found her name, he grunted and looked up at her. His gaze roved over her and he lifted his nose ever-so-slightly to give a discreet sniff. Nodding, he checked something off on the monitor. He was about to step aside and let her pass when he paused. Eyes narrowing, he regarded her coat with suspicion.

Natsuki froze. Her blood seemed to stop in her veins, but then it started pumping again, erratic and too fast for innocence. Mai had required her to take one of the revolvers issued to her in case she should run into any trouble. Currently, it was resting in her coat pocket and it seemed to weigh her down even more. When she had entered, she had been with two members of the aristocracy and had been allowed through without so much as a murmur. But now, now she was just a lone human sneaking out when the Council of Three was just about to begin and she should have been attending her Mistress, the Lady Dame Katharina Adelina Wenckheim.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to search your person, Ms. Kruger," the guard said, tucking the tablet into his black jacket. Though his words were courteous, his voice was as uncompromising and inflexible as a bar of steel.

Cold sweat broke out all over her body in a slick sheen as he moved forward. He seemed to be moving in slow-motion, his actions sluggish and lethargic as the workings of her mind in this current state. She couldn't do this. She couldn't handle this. She needed rest. She needed out. The door was right there. Couldn't she just...

But now he was reaching for her. His arm rose and the muscles beneath his skin seemed to clench and writhe in impossible configurations. His short-cropped dark hair seemed to lengthen as a bed of black snakes against his sallow skin and his red eyes seared, suddenly bright. Something told her that none of what she saw was actually occurring, but she was beyond such observances. She had been dropped into a pit of vipers and now one rose before her, hissing, a forked tongue flickering out from between bared fangs from which drops of venom coalesced and glistened. Green eyes widened, and she took a shaking step back.

_No._

_Don't -_

_Don't touch me._

Natsuki's hand flew up instinctively, a defensive gesture, and she turned her head away as though warding off a blow. Everything happened so fast, she barely registered what took place. From her palm, a brilliant flash of light burst forth, white and wild as the sun, streams of luminescence collecting at her fingertips and swirling part way up her forearm even as it was hurled at the approaching guard in a staggered bolt. The vampire guard shrieked and clutched at his face with both hands. Pitted scars melted into his skin before searing as though a hundred white-hot pokers were thrust into him. The stench of burning flesh and hair, like an acrid roasting sow, filled the air along with the steam and arcing sparks. Within seconds, he had dissolved into gray ash and blackened bone at her feet. The light faded, winking out of existence as though it had never been.

Natsuki didn't know who looked more stunned: the other guard, or herself.

Before she knew what was happening, the other guard had rushed toward her and struck her across the head. Neck whipping back from the force of the blow, Natsuki crashed into a nearby wall in a shower of splintered rock and dust. Her pained cry was cut off short as the remaining guard seized her with a snarl and lifted her off her feet. Blood dribbled down her face from a wound on her brow, blinding one eye with its thick quality, and her right shoulder which had been crushed from her impact, hung limply at her side. His scarlet eyes brightened at the new scent which entered the air. Natsuki's blood. For a long moment, he did nothing more than lick his lips and shudder, but then he somehow - perhaps from his years of extensive training - resisted the magnetic pull of her blood and shook himself as though from a reverie. Checking to make sure she was no longer a threat, the guard quickly searched her person, removing her cell phone and the revolver in her coat pocket. Then he slung her over one shoulder and stomped down an adjacent passage, barking orders into a small device hooked onto the lapel of his black coat.

Sharp spears of pain spiked through her with every step her captor took, jarring her sensitive body. She bit her lip to stifle her whimpers, but it was in vain. She could do no more than hang there, bad arm swaying until she felt the tendons in her shoulder would surely snap. He carried her deeper into the bowels of Parliament, and from the snippets of conversation she had caught, he was taking her to a dungeon for interrogation.

Neither of them noticed a small, child-like figure with twin-tailed hair enter the hall after they had passed.

Shiho Munakata paused. Lifting her head, she sniffed the air.

There.

What was that? That intoxicating smell? She had never detected anything like it before. But what truly intrigued her was what laced over it. So soft. So subtle. A dark serpent winding through sun-lit grass and dappled shadows. She knew that smell. Shiho's amber eyes flashed to a brilliant red. Yes, she knew that smell.

_Shizuru._

Shiho melted into the darkness and pursued. It was a simple task, following that blindingly exotic scent. Blood occasionally dripped from the girl's wound, lighting Shiho's path after them as surely as a torch. She did not know why one of Tate's guardsmen had abducted this girl no more than she knew why Shizuru's scent was upon her. But what interested her the most was the latter enigma. Who was this girl? How was she connected to Shizuru? More importantly, wasn't Shizuru dead?

Truly, a mystery. One that could prove either detrimental or advantageous. It all depended on how Shiho played her cards.

If Shizuru had returned, worse, if Shizuru had returned and was here, in Parliament, during the Council of Three, then Shiho was sure she didn't want to be anywhere near the council hall. Now, or in any number of decades before and after. But, if this girl had been marked by Shizuru...If Shiho could get her hands on the girl and use her as leverage...

Well...Things had certainly looked better for her, but it seemed as though a pale semblance of luck was with her this night.

The guardsman rounded a corner. All the corridors were empty. Everybody was either in attendance at the Council or at their posts.

Shiho crouched. _Now._

The guard never even felt the pain as death came to him, lifting him in a greedy embrace. In a flash, the slim blade about the length of her thigh disappeared from sight into whatever secret hiding place she had drawn it and Shiho caught the girl just as she was about to hit the floor. A muffled cry met her ears but she did not pause to coddle the girl.

"Come," she ordered quietly, lifting the girl and setting her on her feet. The girl wobbled unsteadily and almost fell again. Her breaths came in ragged heaves and her green eyes were heavily hazed. Shiho was forced to reach out a grab her before she crumpled to the floor.

Swearing softly, Shiho opened her mouth to speak again, but stopped. She cocked her head, pink hair brushing her neck. Footsteps. They were distant, but they were coming this way in a hurry. The guardsman must have called for back-up.

Growling a curse, Shiho looked all about them, arms keeping the girl steady.

Where could she - ?

Ah...

She took but a second to consider her other options before nudging the girl down the hallway. Her newly acquired charge stumbled but managed a shambling run that was slow even for human standards. They stopped before a small wooden door at the end of the hall to the left. It was barely big enough for the girl to fit through, but its diminutive form also made it more easily passed over by the unwary eye. Shiho knew this wasn't the best of places to hide her, but for now it would have to do. It would only be for a few hours at the most. Two, maybe three.

Shoving the girl's head and shoulders down so as to fit, Shiho pushed her roughly into the cramped room. The girl staggered forward and sprawled onto the damp, straw-strewn ground, struggling to rise to all fours as she favoured her right side.

"Stay here," Shiho hissed into the small, dark room, "I will return to retrieve you shortly. And...don't touch anything."

With that, she shut the wooden door, plunging the girl into absolute darkness, alone.

* * *

Dark shapes moved atop Victoria Tower. It was a cloudy night and great billows of atmospheric congestion hovered just overhead. The tower itself was illuminated at its base, light thrown onto its blockish, rectangular form, though the top was hidden in shadow. The Palace of Westminster was mercifully disregarded this night; normally tourists flocked all around it, watching from the bridge nearby or strolling around its perimeter. Tonight, any access, even civilian access, was too much for Midori's tastes. She peered over the tower, standing beside one of the four large pillars that rose like spears at each corner, surveying the palace grounds below.

The occasional guard stalked Parliament's grounds, vampires one and all. Unlike human guards that would have been accompanied by dogs, these guardsmen strode alone in increments of maybe ninety meters. Normally, that would be too large a space for humans to successfully cover, but for vampires ninety meters was no more than two or three paces away. Tate Yuuichi II might as well have stationed human guards every fifty centimeters around the entire circumference of Westminster; the effect would have been the same.

Still, such enforcements were no match for the Artemisians. Midori and her men had snuck to their strategic location atop Victoria Tower without much difficulty. Then again, she mused, they'd been avoiding and hunting down vampires for quite some time.

Tracking down Natsuki had not taken long. Luckily, Mai had had the foresight to make the girl take one of the revolvers along. It had served two purposes. One was as a means of protections, that much was obvious. But the second reason was less so. Every issued Cynthian weapon had been implanted with a tracking device should any of their personnel go missing or otherwise have their arms stolen by the enemy. As soon as they had discovered where Natsuki had gone, along with Shizuru's disappearance, any doubt cast in their minds as to what exactly was going on vanished. Midori knew what was happening. This was their moment. Now. Here. They would cripple the Clans and, with Shizuru as their temporary puppet-leader, they would hunt down the remaining offenders.

That was, if Shizuru cooperated as she said she would.

Haruka had assured Shizuru's cooperation as well, but Midori still doubted. She had been working against these monsters for too long to start trusting their most feared and revered member in history.

She glanced down at Mai who was lying on the ground at her feet, stretched out with her long, sleek sniper rifle pointed over the palisade in a prone shooting position, wearing her Cynthian Division armour. Beside her lay copious slender bullets in a dark gray ammunition box, a mix of regular and incendiary rounds at .50 calibres apiece - larger than was necessary to kill the average person, but they weren't aiming at average people. The broad black tip of her rifle never shifted even as she moved, its lengthy barrel mounted and supported by a bipod. Back and forth her steady hands worked across it, aiming, sighting. The SVD type reticle, lit with radioactive tritium that would last for over a decade, reflected red in her right eye, as she slowly dialed the elevation adjustment drum. The gun was a bolt-action and while some would scoff at that fact, Mai knew better. In her book, amateurs were those that used semi-automatics, especially where sniper rifles were concerned. Bolt-action allowed for lighter weight, and increased reliability and accuracy. Were she to have it her way, she'd choose a bolt-action over a semi in any sticky situation. And they managed to get into many of those.

"You all set here?" Midori asked.

Mai grunted, squinting down her line of sight.

"Excellent," Midori turned as though to leave, "I'll lead Team Actaeon into Parliament then. Viola wants an entrance? I'll give her an entrance."

"Right..." Mai continued to calibrate her gun, and replied dryly, "Don't forget your bow, Artemis."

The Cynthian Leader stopped in her tracks and huffed angrily, "Remind me again," Midori asked, pinching the bridge of her nose and scowling with closed eyes, "Why did I promote you to District Officer?"

Mai didn't even glance over at her superior and replied without inflection, "Because I'm the best."

"And for your astounding humility, apparently."

"That too."

* * *

The smell of politicking always put Shizuru in a bad mood.

Entering the council hall, she wrinkled her nose disdainfully. The air here was rank with the stench of oily aristocrats and back-stabbers. She had never been one for politics. Yes, she had done well with them, excelled even, but Shizuru was too noble, too chivalrous for politics. She preferred to meet her enemies head-on, in pitched battle, like civilised people. Well...like civilised monsters. To her, somehow, the phrase did not seem oxymoronic. Killing innocents for pleasure was a part of her nature, but even that was seen as less disreputable in her eyes. Scheming had not come to her naturally. It was not in her nature to plot.

Delicate looking columns rose to a high vaulted ceiling, magnificent and Gothic. All was sandstone and marble but none of it polished, giving the area that organic feel she had come to miss so much in her time at Phaesporia. The modern world had no sense of art or ambiance, she mused. There was something so aloof, stand-off-ish in this contemporary world of shining metal and glass. This, this is where she belonged.

Minus the present company, of course.

The room was filled to bursting with nobles, vampires all. They paraded around in their finery, some still in their period-dress, others preferring the sleek modernity of the times. Some things never seemed to change, however. Always, people - be they human or once-human - loved to congregate around one another and feast. There were no naked humans lining tables like platters of cooked swine and vegetation, but most of the aristocrats sported large glasses goblets of heated blood, sipping as they chatted and flashed their false smiles.

Nor did the many guards escape her notice. All wore black finery with the arms of House Árpádok in dark blue emblazoned across their breasts. The most impressive of these were the twelve guards surrounding the dais at the far end of the hall, upon which were perched three thrones, one straight-backed and pointed like the edge of a tower, mahogany wood carved with some historic scene or another, the other a broad, heavy chair with a curved, half-circle back, lined with gold velvets, and at the centre sat a low curule chair of ebony, glinting with rubies. The guards stood proud and tall around the thrones, hulking beasts in ceremonial black-lacquered plate armour and silvery chain mail awaiting their Lord's command. Shizuru eyed them calmly from across the room as she moved through the ranks of nobles. She could tell they were more powerful than the other guards, but that did not worry her. Their dimly glowing red eyes glowered from beneath full helms, gleaming a burnished black in the torchlight.

It seemed that Tate, Maria and Reito had yet to appear.

"Dame Wenckheim!"

Shizuru glanced around at the familiar voice calling her 'name' to see Herr Edwin smiling at her from a few paces away and striding towards her. A small, willowy woman followed smoothly behind, brown eyes as cool as Edwin's were warm. It was not a coldness derived from disdain but from calculation. She was obviously wary of vampires from outside Árpádok territory. When Edwin reached Shizuru, he clasped her hand in both of his own before ushering the woman forward for an introduction, "A pleasure to see you again, Dame Wenckheim. Allow me to introduce my lovely wife, Anitra."

Shizuru smiled kindly and took Anitra's hand, "Please, call me Katharina."

Anitra gazed solemnly at her, "Katharina," she greeted, though her voice demonstrated the lengths of her wariness, "My husband was so pleased to have been able to escort you and he insisted that we meet. You must have made quite the impression on him."

"I try," Shizuru replied wryly then continued with more sincerity, "I hope this Council will bring our Houses closer together. It is such a shame to be kept apart from kin in this manner."

"How liberal of you," Anitra murmured, "Many would not agree with you."

"And do you count yourself among them?"

Anitra's eyes narrowed fractionally at the query and she tossed her head of dark brown hair dismissively, "I do not. My intent was merely to warn you of prying ears."

"Ah..." Shizuru's smile turned into an impish grin, "Fear not, Dame Württemberg, they will not trouble us."

Edwin decided to chime in with less of his usual cheer, "You seem quite sure of yourself, Katharina," he frowned speculatively, "I know it is rude to ask, but where do you fall in the Bloodline?"

"Pardon?"

"He means," Anitra scowled at her husband, warning, "How many tiers down are you from Graceburt and Kanzaki."

"Obviously, you must be very high up to be so confident," Edwin completed, puzzled that Shizuru did not understand the primary question.

Shizuru chuckled darkly and her red eyes burned a bit brighter, "You might say that."

Bemused, they were going to press her further, but a bell chimed, alerting the entrance of the Three. All manner of chatter that had been going on died out and silence reigned. Every member of the room, of which there were many, turned to face the three chairs atop the dais. The wrought-iron braziers in the form of dragon heads holding spears of flame in their mouths that lined the walls and spindly, Gothic columns sputtered in a draft. Three figures emerged from a door at the back of the hall and took their seats. Two were men and one was a woman. Shizuru immediately recognized Maria and Reito, but the third was unknown to her. That must be Tate Yuuichi II. He was a short man and swarthy and his body, young and barrel-chested in appearance, was draped in an obscene amount of velvets and silks. Kanzaki and Graceburt were stark in comparison, modest even: Reito in his silver-tooled leather trench-coat, red silk doublet, white cravat, his long black pants tucked neatly into comfortable yet expensive black leather boots, steel ceremonial sword at his hip, and Maria in her dark blue velvet gown and a simple gold circlet around her head. They moved in front of their respective chairs and stood before the crowd, waiting.

A herald stepped forward and announced, "Kneel before your sovereigns!"

The nobles all bent knee and descended respectfully to the stone floor in a single, swift movement.

All except Shizuru.

She watched with barely restrained glee as Maria and Reito took notice of her at last. Their eyes widened simultaneously. Maria jerked as though physically struck and Reito froze, body stiff. Their confusion and fear were so strong, she could taste them. A murmur went up from the crowd and the aristocrats looked questioningly at one another. Edwin whispered something urgently to Shizuru and tugged at her hems but she ignored him. Anitra just stared, tense.

Moving forward to stand in the center of the hall before the dais, Shizuru said clearly, "Reito. Maria." They flinched as their names were spoken, "I confess myself _disappointed_. I gave you orders, and this, _this_ is what I find?" She could feel their terror mounting and it thrilled her to her very bones. It had been too long since she last hunted. Far too long.

"Who _are_ you?" Tate boomed in a voice too large for him, "Kneel before your Masters!"

Shizuru's gaze fixed upon him, "I am Šizsur Erzsébet Báthory Violàsz of Ecsed and I have no master."

Silence filled the hall until it was broken by Tate's disbelieving laugh, "What folly is this? Šizsur Violàsz is nothing but a legend!"

"A legend," she smiled grimly at him, eyes blazing, fangs glinting in the firelight, "that will thoroughly enjoy tearing you into tiny pieces."

His swarthy face purpled in anger and he shouted, "Enough!" Pointing imperiously down at her, he shrieked, "Bring me her head!"

Four of the guards moved forward, swords drawn.

"NO!" Maria, having finally found her voice, screamed out, but to no avail, "DON'T!"

Still smiling darkly, Shizuru made no movement. In a flash of bright steel, her head was severed at the neck and her body fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.

* * *

**My only question now is: how long should I let y'alls stew in anticipation? :P**

**Hope y'alls liked it! And, by all means, drop me a review!**


	17. Chapter 17

**You know, it's funny. People who review always want me to make my chapters longer. I've just breached 100 pages with this damn story though. Single-spaced. Though, I must admit, that includes about 10 pages purely of notes and character development. Still! That's a lot! One of my novels I've been writing for three years is only twice that, and I've only been writing this thing for a few months! Hmm...Maybe I should take to having people critique my other writings so as to make me work faster on things that might actually make me money...**

**So...did I make you stew long enough? Are you now pickled with anticipation? Or would that be "shiver in antici...PATION."? (Sorry, I love Rocky Horror...) Y'alls said I was mean by ending the last chapter the way I did, and I agree. I'm a sadist. There. I admitted it.**

**And, of course, whenever someone called me a meanie in a review, I envisioned a pouting Shizuru going, "Kore, ikezu..."**

**What can I say? I'm obsessed.**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

A shot fired out.

On the opposite end of the corridor, a woman who had been fleeing erupted into a swirling cyclone of burning ash as the UV round caught her between the shoulder-blades. Her partner, however, rounded the corner and escaped.

_Not for long._

Midori lowered her arm and the .40 caliber Glock G22 with it. Behind her, piles of smouldering ash scattered the hallway, her previous victims and the victims of the soldiers that flanked her. She had not taken many with her. She and a dozen other Cynthian soldiers stormed Parliament in a precise path towards their main destination: the Council of Three. This was meant to be a sneak attack, ram the enemy fast and hard when they least expected it. So far, she was succeeding.

Marching forward, her soldiers following close in her footsteps, Midori stalked after the vampire that had gotten away. None of those she had killed had been human. Yet. She was sure that if she did happen to come across a human, they would be a servant or a companion either raised by vampires or tied to one through blood or lust. Or both. So far, however, she had only found vampires, mostly guardsmen though some were personal maids and butlers or some other type of servant. Around the corner, the hall ended with but one door, an antique wooden thing, probably from the time when Westminster Palace was first built. Anxious, hurried voices could be heard on the other side, and the shadow of feet blocked the crack at the floor. Reaching into her white suit's jacket pocket, Midori retrieved a flat disk-like object that gleamed a silver-grey, perhaps six centimetres across and only half a centimetre thick. She pressed a built-in button on its side and a blue light flashed for a moment before disappearing. With an expert flick of her wrists, she sent the device sliding under the door-frame and into the room.

She waited.

Shrieks filled the air and tongues of flame licked the underside of the door. Midori motioned to one of the soldiers who moved forward and kicked the door down before entering with a shouldered rifle, red-dot scope gleaming through the smoky haze that lingered in the air. Seven mounds of ash dirtied the stone floor. Nodding, Midori turned to leave but stopped.

A muffled whimper sounded from the other side of the room. Whirling about, Midori entered the room. Wooden chairs and the expensive upholstery of a large couch still smoked. Olive-green eyes roved until they settled upon an upended table in the far corner. Gun raised, she approached and kicked it aside to reveal what it hid.

It was a young boy. He couldn't have been more than eight years old. He was curled up into a ball, hands clenched around his legs, head buried in his knees. He was dressed in a black suit and tie with a sky-blue shirt. His black shoes were scuffed. His strawberry-blonde hair had been carefully combed to the side but now brushed his pale brow, awry. Fearfully, he dared to peer up at her. Red eyes burned bright in his innocent face, betraying his true nature.

He could have been the exact replica of Midori's own son, as he had been just before he died. If she were to take out the rumpled and folded photograph from her breast-pocket and hold it up to his face, this boy and the child in the photo would have looked like twins. Nine years ago, that would have fazed her.

But now, now she felt nothing.

Without a moment's hesitation, Midori aimed her gun and shot him between the eyes.

Turning from the newly made pile of ash, slightly smaller than the others that littered the floor, Midori strode from the room. Her footsteps and those of her silent soldiers echoed softly down the corridor. Her gaze glinted, flinty, as she stormed. Raising her hand, Midori alerted her soldiers to a quicker pace and they continued on their mission at a trot.

_Viola, where are you?_

* * *

A sharp cry of pain went up and rebounded on the confining stone walls. Grimacing into the floor, Natsuki fought back the involuntary tears in her eyes. She had slipped on the straw lining the ground and, without thinking, had used both arms to catch her fall. Her right arm, however, was unable to support her weight and she had crashed down regardless. Her left arm was trapped uncomfortably under her chest, but she didn't want to move. Couldn't she just stay like this? Couldn't she just...go to...sleep...?

Her eyelids drooped. No sooner had they shut, however, then they shot open. Scrambling to all fours and crawling away so that she leaned against the damp stone wall, she looked all around her, her breathing panicky, blood pounding in her ears, resounding, making her head ache. Something had touched her. Something warm.

Red eyes blazed through the darkness. Multiple gazes. Dozens of them. They clustered around, watching her.

She squinted, her eyes still unused to the gloom. Shapes of various sizes moved all around, shuffling quietly across the straw. What were they? They were too small to be fully fledged vampires. Vampire children, then? But why would they be locked in a stinking cell of a room near the dungeons?

For a few minutes, Natsuki tried her best to be completely invisible, but pretending to have such powers did not make them so. Her heart throbbed at its maddened pace in her chest, hammering all the while as though trying to beat its way from her breast. Eventually, her vision grew accustomed to the shadows, but she wasn't sure if she actually wanted to know what creatures were around her.

Slowly, oh so slowly, she made out their shapes.

They were animals. Of all variety. From their diminutive size, she surmised that they all must have still been babies. Kittens, puppies, lion-cubs, calves, foals, apes, chimps, fledglings. She reeled at the sight. They all watched her cautiously, reproachful even, giving her a wide berth as though she were going to lash out at any moment. She blinked at them in surprise and they blinked back owlishly.

A good ten minutes passed and Natsuki had not been eaten alive. Indeed, from the way they acted, they seemed to think that _she_ was the one to be feared. In the end, her curiosity got the better of her.

She reached out, but the crowd of animals scampered over one another in their endeavor to get away. Her movement towards them was answered with squawks and cries and lowes, all of them terrified. (1) Natsuki felt her stomach lurch with pity. What had happened to these creatures? And for what? She hadn't even known that animals could become vampires. But then again, why not? If humans, why not animals? Still, to Turn animals...The thought made her sick.

A wolf-pup lost its footing on the slimy straw and tumbled to the ground. Natsuki couldn't help but giggle. It looked so ridiculous: a silver and black wolf-pup splayed out on its belly with that surprised look on its face. Before it could get back up again, she scooped it up with her good arm and placed it in her lap. Mewling and whimpering, it clambered at her legs in its frantic attempt to escape. Natsuki cooed softly to it, crooning, murmuring as she held it gently in place. Finally, it realised that resistance was futile and accepted its fate, quivering in her grasp.

Slowly, she began to stroke its small back. The soft puppy down of its fur consumed her long, pale fingers in a sea of fluffy warmth as she pet it. A bald patch adorned its right flank and scars from needles were apparent on its grayish skin. What had it been injected with? Blood?

"You're so fluffy," she murmured in that soothing voice, speaking in a constant stream of soothing sounds, oftentimes in inane statements such as what she was saying now and also in gibberish; the words didn't matter, just the tone, "You're just such a good, fluffy puppy, aren't you? Yes, yes you are...There, there, baby boy...Such a good boy..."

She wasn't even sure if the wolf-pup was male or not; the gender just came out without thinking about it. After a while, its tremours slowed then eventually ceased until the wolf-pup was arching against her hand, even going so far as to raise itself unsteadily to its feet and turn around so that Natsuki could scratch behind its ears. She smiled, "There's a good boy..." she whispered.

The others observed. At the wolf-pup's daring, a little lioness crept forward and sniffed uncertainly at Natsuki's feet. She kept still so as not to startle it. The lioness slowly edged nearer to her and rubbed its head against Natsuki's knee, "Sorry," she told it, "I've only got one good hand, and its a bit busy right now."

These creatures were by no stretch of the imagination dumb beasts. They may have been young, but they understood her actions. Most animals at this age wouldn't have been able to discern much outside of her tone of voice, but they watched her, and they knew she meant them no harm. As long as they didn't want to harm her. Natsuki didn't need to pull back the skin of the wolf-pup's muzzle to she its teeth. Two fangs extended past its lips. The pup looked more like a cross between a wolf and a saber-toothed tiger than anything else. Upon closer inspection, the lioness was the same and so, she assumed were all the others.

The tension in the room had finally died down and the animals all seemed to relax. Two more lions came to snuggle up to her legs and an eagle came down to her shoulder to glare fiercely at her with one round crimson eye, peering with curiosity as it craned around her. Apparently, she had been wrong. Here was at least _one_ animal that didn't have fangs. Though its talons were definitely sharp. She winced as its large claws dug into her left shoulder, though it very consciously did not break her skin and draw blood.

Warmth from the surrounding animals, some of which that cuddled up to her and now purred contentedly like small engines giving off heat, suffused her. Head leaning back, Natsuki felt her muscles loosen. Her hand continued to idly stroke the wolf-pup in her lap, which had now curled up into a snoozing ball of fur, even as her eyelids drooped. She was so tired and it was so warm. She could just...Just for a little while...Maybe...

Her hand stopped, resting on the wolf-pups back, and the darkness consumed her at last in sweetest sleep.

* * *

"NO! DON'T!"

The words shouted by Maria Graceburt, Mistress of House Medveczky, rang out and lingered in the air.

Silence filled the hall as every eye watched Shizuru Viola's decapitated body slump forward heavily to the stone floor. There should have been blood, copious amounts of it seeping out and filling the cracks of dried mortar, but there was none. Instead, a thick, black gelatinous substance could be seen quivering from the gaping wound of her neck.

A bark of laughter, harsh and incredulous cracked through the quiet, "That's it?" Yuuichi crowed from his seat, his expression gloating, "_That _was the infamous Šizsur Violàsz?"

Nobody else moved or said a word.

The guard that had done the deed sheathed his sword in a fluid, practiced motion and bent over to pick up the head with both hands. He was half-way to Tate's throne where the Lord of House Árpádok waited greedily for his prize, when the guard began screaming.

Surprise marred Yuuichi's face now, soon to be filled with a creeping terror.

The guard's shrill cries of pain went through the crowd like a shattered bolt. They all flinched simultaneously. The guard tried to drop the head but was unable to do so. It had melted into a dark trembling mass that steadily ate away at his flesh with astounding alacrity, crawling its way up both arms and creeping over his broad, pauldron-clad shoulders. He fell to his knees, clawing and thrashing in wild abandon. No sooner had he fallen silent than every source of light in the vicinity fluttered out of existence with a hiss.

Struck with terror, they watched. Shizuru's body seemed to split open and from it, all the horrors of hell emerged. She became an amorphous darkness, a shape of shrieking shadow and gibbering madness, mindlessly ravenous. The blackness swelled and bubbled forth, a thing of heedless voracity, it reared to the ceiling, devouring all manner of remaining light until it stood, a molten pillar radiating cold, black fire. It were as though the space between realms had been rent, shearing a yawning aperture to the underworld right in their very midst. The Stygian tiers beyond, topped with turrets of howling, punished souls lashed in place and whipped by raving furies, seemed to call to them, drag them inexorably forward, though no sound nor any movement was made.

The ragged edges of it reached out, branching with a thousand grasping, jointless limbs and all it touched tore in a screaming haze to in turn burst, boil and become but a part of the whole. Members of the crowd alternatively shredded to become part of it, some, incensed, turned upon one another, driven by a senseless rage, some raked at their own faces, huddled in corners or at the base of pillars, chewing with foaming lips chunks of skin, muscle and the frothing orbs of their eyes ripped from their sockets, while others still were completely motionless, forced to witness the slaughter unleashed.

Until, at last, all fell still. But for the moans of the dying and the pulpy carcasses writhing in death-throes, all was quiet and none dared move voluntarily.

Shizuru stood, whole and unmarred, at the centre of the hall. Smoke and shadow still wreathed her form, swirling in a black aura all around her. Wisps of darkness, ebon tendrils, curled and dissipated like ash in the wind and from the middle of the living black burned a gaze of hellish light above a fanged and bloodied mouth. She bore no smile now. Now, she strode forward with an unearthly gliding gait, atramentous veins lingering and slithering in the footsteps in her wake like winged serpents rising from the floor. What was left of Tate Yuuichi II, the Usurper, was unrecognizable. His clotted remains begrimed the steps to the dais leading to the thrones. Graceburt and Kanzaki were among those who had been left as witnesses and both stood exactly where they had been when the carnage began. The ability of speech escaped them as Shizuru ascended the steps and took her place upon the centre throne as naturally as though it were made for her. Those scorching eyes swept across the chamber, unerring in their path.

"I, Šizsur Erzsébet Báthory Violàsz of Ecsed, do claim House Árpádok and all its subjects for my own. Those of House Árpádok, you will swear your fealty to me now, or you will know my _displeasure_."

Her voice rang clear, yet for a long moment no one moved. At last, Herr Edwin stepped forward, legs trembling slightly, visage pale, and he spoke in an unwavering voice, "Allow me, my Lady, to be the first to swear fealty to you." Kneeling, he bowed his head, one hand across his chest, the other resting on the blood-slick floor, "I, Edwin Eberhard Württemberg, Baron of Eboncrest of the Southern Lands of House Árpádok, do so pledge my life to my liege Lady and to the protection of the sovereign throne she does occupy, may she live forever."

His wife, Anitra, approached and did the same. Soon after, every remaining noble, following suit - all of whom were members of House Árpádok - emboldened by the Württemberg's actions, had all knelt and pledged their lives, loyalty and lands to the throne.

Perched upon the low-slung curule chair, Shizuru regarded them all in turn until she turned her unblinking sight upon Maria and Reito. They flinched.

"Go, Maria Graceburt and Reito Kanzaki. Return to your lands across the sea. Gather your soldiers. Muster your arms. But know this," she leaned forward and a chilling smile could be detected through the shadowy aura, "Your departure from this place, here and now, is not to prolong your lives. It is to prolong the undeniable pleasure I will take in hunting you down, decimating your men, draining your infants, burning your cities and finally killing you in the slowest and most excruciating fashion possible."

The two gaped at her, shell-shocked.

_My, my, but I missed the taste of fear,_ she thought with grim satisfaction.

Sounds of gunfire and howls of the dying issued from behind the massive doors at the entrance of the hall. Shizuru cocked her head and smiled at Graceburt and Kanzaki, "If you want to live for at least a few more days, whatever that may be worth to you, then I suggest you leave now out the back. My..._associate_ may not be as lenient as I."

Shooting her a mystified glare, they exchanged meaningful glances. Without further ado, they vanished into the door from which they had emerged just as the main doors at the front were hurled open.

Cynthian soldiers poured into the room, a great flooding wave of men-in-arms wearing the trademark gray and blue armour and shouldering rifles, they seemed more numerous than was, in actuality, no more than a dozen or so men. They marched in, surrounding the perimeter and securing it before alerting another outside with unmatched professionalism. A figure in white strode forward, impeccable but for a splatter of blood across the left side of the white suit. A gold sun-burst glimmered at the slip of a white tie as Midori strolled through the ranks of vampire nobles and bloodied bodies as though she were ambling through a park on a sunny spring day, enjoying the scenery of blossoming flowers and gently waving trees.

"Welcome, Artemis," Perched upon her throne, Shizuru greeted her, but as she did so she was thinking of one thing only.

_Right on time._

* * *

**(1) lowes: No. Not the store. I mean the sound that cows make. Cows don't 'moo'. Those plastic toys from our collective childhoods lied. They LIED. Cows low. It's an archaic term, but there you go. I'm an archaic kind of person.**

**Oh and why, yes! Yes I DO like H.P. Lovecraft! In fact, I have an unabridged collection of his work that I've read more times than I care to admit. He was more of an influence on Shizuru's "transformation" than was Alucard from Hellsing, but then again what good science-fiction / horror writer **_**hasn't**_** been influenced by Lovecraft? Go on. Try to prove me wrong. I will shoot you down. With glee, I might add :)**


	18. Chapter 18

**Ahh...I love the smell of tea in the afternoon.**

**Thanks to my British upbringing, I undergo the lovely ritual of having tea everyday, usually around five in the evening. It was during my tea-drinking that I realised what a good Mad Hatter Shizuru would make. For all the other Alice in Wonderland fans, wouldn't it be amusing to have her as the Mad Hatter and Natsuki as Alice? Just sayin'...**

**I think this epiphany was also brought on by the fact that I was playing the new "Alice, Madness Returns" game while drinking my tea. Bah! Details, details!**

**I took my time on this next update not because it is particularly long, but because I was planning ahead. I have up until chapter 26 completely mapped out, scene for scene. You'll like the results and bless my far-sightedness later. Trust me.**

**Methinks this also marks about the half-way point of this story. Almost half-way, in any case. I don't foresee this going beyond 60 chapters. Just a heads up. I shan't push this story nor cut it too short. It deserves time to properly evolve without being rushed, but I won't have it go out of control in terms of scale, either.**

**Also! I got no challenges concerning H.P. Lovecraft as put forth at the end of the last chapter! Hmmph. *pouts* I really wanted to give a detailed explication of Lovecraftian influences throughout the genre of horror with the most delicious artistry of sadistically tearing apart any nay-sayer's ill-conceived notions. Disappointment abounds! Woe!**

**But I digress...**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

Far below, a vampire shrieked as his body burst into flame.

Mai gave a satisfied grunt. She watched the result of her handiwork through the scope mounted atop her sniper rifle. The chamber had already been reloaded by her expert hand, snapping the bolt back and forward once more in a sharp, practiced movement, all the while never taking her eye of the target in question. The incendiary round had done its job well, however, and the vampire was soon a pile of ash. Luckily, the night was just windy enough to scatter its remains without impairing her judgment or requiring her to compensate for it when she fired. It was a perfect night for hunting.

Mai loved it.

She loved the thrill of it. The waiting in-between each victim, the suspense of sighting them, aiming, drawing a breath and holding it so as to not disrupt her aim, finger brushing the trigger, finding that perfect moment and then...Mai never missed. One did not become District Officer - essentially second in command of the Cynthian League, of whom there were only two: herself and another agent stationed in the East by the name of Chie Hallard - by not being the best at what they did. She may have spoken similar words to Midori earlier in jest, but they both knew it was true. Midori had been in Mai's shoes once before, years ago. Artemis had once borne the name Callisto. From what Mai had heard, the transition had been difficult. Becoming a god, perfect and pristine in every sense, required sacrifice.

In her head, Mai ticked off another tally. That made...16 so far. When Midori had gone in, she had picked off the guards outside one by one and waited for more to emerge. From the Cynthian infiltration, some vampires managed to escape and tried to flee Parliament. That was where Mai had come in. While Midori was raising all hell inside Westminster Palace, she herself had played a part keeping any loose ends to an absolute minimum. Thus far, she was performing exceptionally. Nothing was quite as satisfying as having a perfect score in what she did. Not many were so lucky to match aptitude and interest with their jobs.

But then her next targets emerged.

They were two figures walking briskly from a back door of Parliament. They strode side by side, apparently arguing among themselves if their sharp gesticulations were any indication. She could not make out their faces, but then again she really didn't care. They were dead men, whoever they were, both literally and figuratively.

Looking through her scope, she trailed their forms as they walked. Huh. One was a woman, apparently. Unless it was a man who so happened to enjoy cross-dressing, which would explain the dress. Mai decided that she'd take out the woman first. A quick, clean kill: an act of mercy, really.

Suddenly, the man stopped. He gestured to his companion to do the same. Mai frowned down her barrel at them. What were they doing -?

The man turned slowly.

A shock wave rippled through Mai as surely as though she had stuck her fingers into an electrical outlet. She froze, lungs refusing to breathe.

It was Reito. And he was looking right at her.

Her eyes widened.

_Kanzaki_.

He smirked at her knowingly and raised his hand to give her a smug little wave.

"_Such a fiery one, aren't you?"_

She could hear his voice, coming back to her through her traitorous memories even after all these years.

_A single finger trailed across her cheek, the nail cutting into skin so that a scarlet line appeared and from it dripped a drop of blood to her jaw. She did not make a noise. She would not give him that satisfaction. Through the doorway beyond him from where he had cornered her, she could see a bloodied arm lying on the floor. A ring glinted on its right hand. Earlier, she had heard the shrieks of her parents as they were murdered and awoken to find her brother, Takumi clutching her sleepy body, his body wracked with uncontrollable sobs. Now, this man stood before her while her brother huddled at the base of the hotel bed nearby. An attendant of his stood nearby, a girl with sharply cut dark hair and large ebony eyes, wearing a strangely eastern outfit of deep purples and maroons. _

"_What is your name, child?"_

"_Fuck you." She spat._

_He smirked, dark eyes flickering to a softly glowing red, "Oh? What interesting names people have these days!"_

"_Go to hell." Came the snarling retort._

"_Ah, but you see, I've already been. Such a dull place, really." He leaned in closer and licked the blood in a wet trail from her jaw to her cheek, "I could show you far more interesting locations. Who knows? You may grow to like them..."_

_Jerking her head back she spat in his face, "Never."_

_He stepped back with a theatrical sigh and pulled a dark green silk handkerchief from inside his coat pocket, using it to calmly wipe the saliva from his face, "So stubborn. A pity. Still," his eyes traveled over her body, "I do so love breaking in obstinate pets." He snapped his fingers and spoke to his attendant, "Akira, bring them."_

Mai blinked back the memories. Breath finally returned to her, stuttering into her chest in a long ragged inhalation. When she looked for Kanzaki, however, he was gone.

* * *

"Artemis."

A voice crackled over the small bud in Midori's ear. She raised her hand to it and pressed down, "Artemis, here."

There was a short pause before the voice spoke again, "Team Anthros reporting," it announced briefly, "We have secured the dungeons but found another side-door leading to unknown whereabouts. Orders?"

Midori considered for a moment, "Proceed with caution. The use of force is permitted if necessary. Should any subjects surrender they are not to be harmed."

"Yes, ma'am. Anthros, out."

Lowering her hand, Midori glanced around her. She was still in the Council Hall, standing before the dais where Viola lounged upon her throne, filling with ease the powerful noble station to which she had been born so many years ago. Some people had a certain bearing to them, a presence that commanded the space around them. Midori had only ever met four people who had such a presence: a young girl by the name of Mashiro Kazehana whom she had met briefly in passing once, long ago, Kazehana's attendant, Fumi Himeno, Natsuki and Shizuru. She would have added Haruka to that list, but Haruka only let herself be noticed if it was what she wanted. Those other four demanded gazes to turn towards them just by entering a room. Even after Haruka let Midori see her, she still lacked that natural air of command. Midori may not know exactly what Haruka's purpose was or even _what_ she was, but she knew that Haruka worked in the shadows, an observer and steady guidance of events. (1)

The aristocracy had all been commanded to return to their rooms and had done so without question. Many had not been able to move even after Shizuru had issued the order, and it had taken both Herr Edwin's and the Cynthian Company's efforts to get the nobles to budge an inch. Eventually, they had all been ushered into their respective quarters across Parliament by Midori's soldiers and now only Shizuru, herself, Herr Edwin, Anitra and a few soldiers remained. The Countess and her two remaining nobles were conversing calmly. The guards had all been killed. Bodies still littered the floor as readily as candy wrappers and cigarette butts littered a London sidewalk, and they were regarded with just as much care. Somehow, in a disturbing way, Shizuru seemed more at home among a place strewn with fresh corpses. It was...natural. 'Twere the place to be better lit and immaculately clean, it would not have looked _right_.

A small shiver ran down Midori's spine at the thought. She did not like how naturally her acceptance of these circumstances came to her. She needed to be wary. Nothing good would come of letting her guard down in the present company.

Ah, but here came another to join them.

During her raid, Midori had come across a vampire that had claimed to know Shizuru and requested to speak with her. Grudgingly, Midori had agreed to grant her temporary amnesty. _Temporary_. If Shizuru wanted nothing to do with her, then Midori would gladly dispose of her. In fact, she was putting all her figurative eggs in the wicker basket pinned with a picture of the vampire girl's face and an 'X' at the centre of her forehead labeled "SHOOT HERE".

Four Cynthian soldiers entered the room, two flanking the girl and the other two marching five steps behind, guns trained on her shoulder blades should she suddenly decide to lash out. Despite her unfavourable circumstances, she seemed completely sure of herself. Her twin-tailed hair bounced with every step and her face was expressionless. As she approached, Shizuru, Edwin and Anitra ceased their conversation. Edwin blinked in surprise at seeing the newcomer and his wife frowned curiously. Both were probably wondering why the girl had not been killed, yet they did not react in a way that would have suggested the girl was in any way a threat.

Shizuru, on the other hand, merely hummed. It was a small sound and barely noticeable, almost as though something she had been thinking of earlier had just been confirmed by the girl's arrival. Her features remained perfectly poised when she addressed the girl, "Shiho," she began, "I expected you might be here. Or at least alive."

The four soldiers that had accompanied her did not leave Shiho Munakata's side when stopped before the throne - the other two had been taken away some time ago, leaving only the ruby encrusted curule chair - and replied dryly, "Believe me, staying alive has proven itself far more difficult that I could have imagined. You seem to have surpassed us all on that account, however."

That made Shizuru grin, "What's this, Shiho?" she teased, "Aren't you happy to see me? Your lack of surprise is worth praising, I might add."

Shiho snorted, derisive, "I have never wanted your praise, Shizuru. Do not mistake me for Reito." Shizuru's smile widened at these words and Shiho continued, "As for my lack of surprise..." she rolled her shoulders in a relaxed shrug, "I had a..._hint_ of your arrival at Parliament."

"Oh? Do continue, by all means."

"I am referring to your pet human, of course."

At this, the smile slid from Shizuru's face quicker than butter from a hot pan. She sat up straighter, though the movement was so small Midori wouldn't have been able to catch it had she not been looking for a reaction. She herself had been wondering where Natsuki might have gotten off to. She had hoped that Shizuru would have kept her close, or at least hidden her in a safe place while she dealt with the Council of Three. It seemed, though, that Shizuru had lost her. Now, how they hell did that happen? She saw the way Shizuru looked at the girl. She knew Shizuru would not allow her to come to harm, unless that harm were to come from the Countess, that was. And yet, she had lost her in perhaps the most dangerous place possible.

A deadly edge entered Shizuru's voice, like a steel blade beneath soft silk, "Where is she?"

Now Midori understood Shiho's smug attitude, "I saved her from one of Tate's guards after smelling your scent upon her. The guard was taking her to the dungeons to be interrogated, though for what I know not. I hid her in one of the rooms there."

Midori stepped forward and asserted, "The dungeons have been searched and secured. There was no sign of Natsuki."

Shizuru was silent. Her scarlet gaze was momentarily hidden by closed lids and she inhaled deeply. The air in the hall seemed to quiver, every particle trembling from unknown agitation, even the air within Midori's lungs shook, clenching in her chest. After a few seconds, the pressure passed and Shizuru opened her eyes once more, "Shiho's words are true," she announced. She stood and darkness emanated from her in that aura of pitch and inky vines, "I shall see to her, Midori. Edwin?"

The nobleman turned to her, "Yes, Mistress?"

"See to it that Shiho is taken to her rooms."

"Of course, Mistress," he bowed.

Taken aback, Midori felt cheated, "What? You aren't going to kill her?" she asked incredulously. Shiho scowled darkly at this, but Midori ignored her.

For a moment Shizuru did not answer; she seemed to be contemplating the idea, "The thought crossed my mind..." she cocked her head, studying Shiho from her place on the dais. Shiho did not shift as would many beneath such intense scrutiny, "However I feel that she can be of more use alive. If she does not prove herself on that behalf, then feel free to kill her yourself, should that please you." The Countess waved a hand, nonchalant, as though gesturing to the fine English weather they were currently enjoying. She melted into the shadows without a further word and disappeared, leaving Midori and Shiho eyeing one another like feral cats in an alleyway fighting over the last fish carcass.

"Well," Midori began, smiling, her voice brisk yet holding a dangerous edge, "Looks like you better start making yourself useful, Ms. Munakata."

Shiho merely growled wordlessly in response.

* * *

Natsuki awoke to the sound of yelps and animalistic shrieks.

Groggily, she opened her eyes. At first she could see nothing, for her mind was still shrouded in the fog of sleep and her fatigue had not been fully alleviated - the few hours she had been allowed to sleep had in no way sated her. After a brief moment of slumber-induced confusion, she finally was able to comprehend what was taking place around her.

Three Cynthian soldiers had appeared in the room while she slept. All wore the standard Artemisian armour, including their helms so she was unable to see their faces. Instead, upon their sleek, black masks was reflected the carnage around them. They were shooting the animals. All of them. Systematically. The door had been closed behind them so as to not allow for the animals' escape, and the targeted creatures made no movement for the door. Instead, they cowered against the walls, crawling over one another in a desperate and useless endeavor to flee. Many carcasses already lay still and bloodied on the floor. It did not register to Natsuki or the soldiers that the animals did not react to the UV bullets the way a normal vampire would. But then again, perhaps the soldiers did not care. they were just doing their job, and they were doing it with horrific competence.

Leaping to her feet, Natsuki rushed forward, her good arm outstretched.

"Stop!" she cried out frantically, "Leave them alone!"

One of them snapped his head toward her, noticing her for the first time. Quickly and with a sharp motion, he raised his rifle and pointed it at her, "Hands over your head!" He growled, voice distorted to carry a mechanical hum from being transmitted through his helm, "And get down on the ground!"

She ignored him.

The other two continued as they had done before, gunning down the vampiric animals one at a time with stoic efficiency. The animals themselves did not resist in any violent form. None of them attacked the soldiers and Natsuki was sure none of them had attacked the soldiers before she had awoken.

Now she was no longer despairing; she was furious. She grabbed the man's gun, pulling it aside, and yelled at the other two, "I said stop! STOP!"

They stopped and looked up, but not because of what she said. They reacted to what she did right after the words had been spoken. Or, rather, what she unintentionally did.

Light, the same swirling light from before, flared from the hand that held the gun. The metal of the weapon beneath her grasp turned a brilliant orange and quickly melted into a twisted lump, rendering it utterly useless. This time, however, unlike the last, the light did not fade. Instead, it crept up her arm, going as far as her shoulder before it slowed, though tendrils of it brushed her head and torso. Immediately letting go of the gun's muzzle, Natsuki stared in terror at her arm. She had been hoping that the similar incident before had been part of the nightmare that her life now consisted of.

When was she going to wake up?

A strange, prickling sensation seeped into her arm. It was cold. So cold. She could feel it penetrating her muscles, her bones in an aching clench. She gritted her teeth to stifle a whimper.

"She's one of them!" the soldier closest to her barked at his comrades, stepped away from her, "Take her down!"

Two guns pointed at her. She barely had time to realise what had happened when they fired.

Multiple projectiles tore into her and erupted out the other side in wide sprays of blood. She gasped. The pain ripped through her, making her legs buckle. The floor rushed up to strike her knees, but she hardly felt the sharp edges of stone digging into her legs. She gripped her chest and abdomen with both hands. Blood smeared her arms, dripped to the floor.

Something in her mind snapped.

It was such a frail thing. Crystalline. It was woven through her, all throughout her, in a lacy web of glass. Under just the right amount of pressure, it shattered and released an all-consuming flood.

Slowly, she stood. She felt her limbs moving, felt her mouth moving, but it was not she who was in control any longer.

"Fools!" Natsuki's voice had changed. It was at once deeper and higher, multi-tonal, layering and echoing with such resounding finality the soldiers all shivered in spite of themselves. Her eyes, too, had undergone some transformation for now she bore a gaze wreathed in emerald lightning that spat thunder, "You dare defy me? You dare raise arms against a god?" She reached out her left hand towards them, hand crooked, and hissed "You shall pay for your impudence!"

They were lifted up into the air as though something had yanked them by the scruffs of their necks. Their howls of agony filled the cell. Cracks split in their skin and armour from which was emitted streams of light that twisted as they thrashed. Natsuki looked on without pity as they slowly cooked alive from the inside out.

Light began to spread across her entire form. She was a whirling field of energy, brilliant as a star. Her body was nothing more than a faint human-shaped outline amidst the blaze and her gaze bled a blazing viridian hue.

_No._

She watched as though through a window, unable to move any part of her own body.

_This isn't what I want._

It took all the effort she possessed to squeeze her eyes shut. Her breath came in short gasps. The cold consumed her now. A cold so intense it burned. She was burning inside. Was she dying? Was this death?

"Natsuki?"

Shizuru was standing in front of her, eyes wide.

"Shi...Shizu...ru...?" She panted, "Help...Help me...Pl...Please...I-I can't..."

And immediately, Shizuru was there, holding her. Shizuru was so warm, so warm it almost hurt. Her own arms went around the other woman, clutching to her back for all she was worth, "Let go..." She whispered into Natsuki's hair, "Just let it go. It will make everything better. I promise."

Salty tears streamed down Natsuki's cheeks. She buried her face in the crook of Shizuru's neck. Fighting against the raging tide within her was like trying to uproot a tree with her bare hands. Every instinct in her body told her to fight it, to not let it take over...but then there was Shizuru gently stroking her lower back, her hair, telling her to let it go, to allow it to run its course, as was inevitable. With a sobbing, lurching cry, she forced her mind to relax, to cease its straining against invariable bonds, bonds that pulled her along as surely as the moon pulled the ocean to the shore.

Shizuru supported Natsuki as she sagged into her arms in a dead faint. As the girl's body slumped forward, the light vanished, withdrawing back beneath her skin and the emerald lightning flickered beneath her closed lids before falling still at last. Bending down, Shizuru lifted Natsuki's legs up in one hand, her back and shoulders in the other. Stepping over the smoking remains of the Cynthian soldiers, she carried Natsuki from the dungeon and out into the dimly lit hall. As she did so, her eyes were fixed on Natsuki's now peaceful face, studying its every plane.

_What are you?_

* * *

**(1): Even in the anime, I'd say that Haruka is still just an observer and guidance of events. She does not really play any prestigious role; she is a foil, a means by which the authors propelled the plot. For example, think about how her actions changed the plot during the last few episodes, especially concerning Shizuru and Natsuki's relationship. If not for Haruka (and Yukino, I suppose) the outcome of things would have been **_**very**_** different. But that's just my opinion. As a side note, my opinion also reflects the role I have her in here, in this very story. It seems Haruka is fated to be a side character. (Emphasis on the word "fated" *nudge nudge wink wink* I'm giving you a very blatant clue here as to Haruka's true identity.)**


	19. Chapter 19

**Salvete, omnes!**

**I forgot to answer a question in my last post concerning the pronunciation of the word "Ecsed", a word which has popped up quite a lot these last few chapters. Instead of just answering this single query, however, I have decided to give a little run-down of Hungarian pronunciation for the most common Hungarian phrases used in the story at the end of this chapter in the hopes that any further confusion will be cleared up. I shan't be giving a detailed outline of Latin pronunciation, however, since I think that would be an over-kill, so to speak. That and the fact that I could go on and on and on about Latin. Ergo, if you feel so inclined, take a gander at the end of this post.**

**Now! Onto more important matters! I'm glad y'alls liked the last chapter. I won't be going directly back to Natsuki and Shizuru, however. We need a breather. And more plot.**

"**NOOoooo!" the crowds cry in utmost despair.**

**Well suck it up and buckle in, readers. We're going back down the dreaded Plot Vale even if I have to roll y'alls up in carpet bags and haul you over my shoulder into its be-shadowed depths one-by-bloody-one.**

**Also, as a side note, I never actually intended for this story to be so...large. I'm speaking of length and scope, here. Initially, I just wanted to get a short and somewhat smutty ShizNat story off my chest, but instead I ended up with **_**this**_** monstrosity. How, I asked myself, did this happen? My own over-active imagination is partly to blame, but in reality it is you, dear readers, you who make this story progress. Give yourselves a pat on the back. You deserve it for making this lazy bag-o-bones write regularly.**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

The Voices had returned.

They were so beautiful, so eternally resonant and harmonious in the Revenant's mind. Tonight was a night. A perfect night. A night of infinite capabilities. Tonight would mark the twenty-fourth sacrifice. Tonight, the Revenant would again complete another link in the great chain of The Awakening.

Smiling, the Revenant looked down upon the now slumbering form of a young woman upon the broad altar in the shape of a five-pointed star. Though the surrounding darkness was broken only by candles held, cupped in the hands of the Revenant's many faithful followers, the structure they were in could be seen to be a cathedral, a Gothic structure of shattered ruins, open to a sky of boiling clouds that wept full tears from the heavens. These Cultists, filed around the raised altar as though the pentagram itself were radiating shimmering pools of light, all wore blood-red robes, simple raiment without any ties to better let the magic flow through their midst. Low chanting issued from them in perfect unison. Their heads were bowed, faces covered by deep hoods to this chromatic drone and that of scattered humming voices. The Revenant assumed position at the head of the star where the girl began to whimper in her sleep.

She was not supposed to have awakened. This fact angered the Revenant.

The ritual must be done, and it must be done with immaculate precision.

The Voices rose as the Revenant raised black-robed arms high over-head. The chanting increased, raising to a frenzied pitch that bucked and swayed like an wild, unbroken horse freshly caught from the windy plains as the Revenant slipped a dagger from its wide-sleeved robes. In the candlelight, it glinted a burnished, pitted bronze in the delicate yet strong hand which held it. Simple and unornamented, the ivory hilt had long since rotted away and the hilt had been wrapped in soft, boiled leather.

In a single, sharp movement, the Revenant placed the razor-sharp edge at the girl's neck and drew it across. All other noise died down instantly. The cut ran deep and the blood was carefully collected in a bowled marble pitcher positioned at the base of the altar beneath the girl's head. With a sickening slosh, it filled the broad pitcher until all could be heard was the slow drip, drip, drip.

Moving around to the side of the altar, the Revenant began to carefully slice the girl's right hand from her arm, dissecting the wrist in clean, surgical motions. A member of the Cultists stepped forward holding a black silk bag. With great care, the Revenant placed the removed hand into the bag and the Cultist retreated back into the crowd with a low bow.

Smoke from the many long wicks of candles drifted through the air and tangled in the heavens over the sacrifice like dead, grey grass in the wind.

* * *

"Excuse me, Ma'am. Smoking is not allowed."

Nao looked up, incredulous. Her hand had just found the matches in her jacket pocket and an unlit cigarette dangled from her lips. The office secretary by the name of "Sonya Mizer", if the bronze plaque on her perfectly neat desk was any indication, met her gaze unflinchingly before returning to typing furiously away on her computer.

_Bitch._

Juliet Nao Zhang, half-French and half-Chinese Company Operative now masquerading as a member of an elite branch of Scotland Yard, stuffed the cigarette into her pocket along with the matches. The slender cylinder crumpled slightly at the unjustified duress, but she didn't care. It could still be smoked later. Though 'later' was definitely _not_ when Nao wanted to smoke it. She wanted it _now_, and to hell with that blonde bitch.

Crossing her arms across her chest like a petulant child, Nao considered in great detail the many ways she could kill Mademoiselle Sonya Fuck-Me-Mizer and get away with it, making it look like an accident.

Currently, Nao was sitting in an uncomfortable felt-padded chair at the American Embassy on Trafalgar Square, waiting for a meeting with - guess who? - an American Ambassador. Further down the hall from where she had arrived, people buzzed all about. Here, however, she was the only one waiting. Nobody else seemed to have a pressing need to speak with Mr. Swanson, and yet she was waiting. She'd been sitting here, legs sprawled before her, green tie slightly yet artfully crooked with a pair of dark sunglasses hiding her eyes, for forty minutes now. Forty minutes! Jesus-fucking-Christ, she hated working with governments! Any government. _Especially_ her own government. The French were notorious sticklers that irritated even their own people.

She had just graphically murdered the secretary for the eleventh time in her mind - perhaps not in a way that could have been seen as accidental; there was far too much blood painting the walls and Mademoiselle Sonya Mizer's arms no longer decorated her torso - when said secretary answered the phone.

"Yes, of course," pink painted nails clicking against the headset through which she had taken the call, Sonya Mizer looked at Nao with a brilliant smile and said, "Mr. Swanson is waiting for you, Ms. Zhang."

_He's waiting? Not likely._

Without responding, Nao rose from her place and walked to the plain wooden door that led to Mr. Swanson's office, pushing the glasses atop of her head as she did so to reveal her eyes. Pulling the door open, she walked inside and shut it behind her. The office was plain with walls painted a light gray and the same cheap navy blue carpeting from the other room coated this floor as well. A few pictures lined the walls, mainly knock-offs of Monet and other famous artists, but there was also one of a man with a woman and three girls. A family, she presumed. The very same man sat behind a large oak desk littered with papers from which a black computer emerged as though it belonged in _2001: A Space Odyssey_. Another smaller photo was propped on his desk and though she could not see it, she presumed that it was another of family.

Mr. Swanson himself was broad-shouldered and though he was not standing, Nao knew he was tall. Perhaps 6'4" or 6'5". She always imagined diplomats as being scrawny things with no necks and voices oily enough to be sold at a fast-food station, but this man was anything but that. He filled his suit impressively and was as fine a specimen of the human race as she had ever seen. He could have been more at home on a rugby pitch. Longish sandy blonde hair curled around his ears and his surprisingly soft brown eyes were set above a jaw that looked like an anvil. He was somewhat reminiscent of a yellow Labrador or a St. Bernard with those loyal puppy-dog eyes that could make a spinster melt.

Nao wasn't necessarily interested in his type - meaning, men in general - but she could definitely see the appeal in one such as himself. Immediately, she felt...secure in his presence. Just by looking at him, one knew that he was the type of man good, caring, overly-protective fathers were made of: a complete softy for his wife and kids despite his often misinterpreted size and appearance.

As soon as she entered the room, he stood respectfully and came around his desk to meet her, "Ms. Zhang, I'm so sorry you had to wait as long as you did. I'm afraid something unexpected came up."

_Maybe even 6'6"_, she idly thought to herself as she grasped his warm, outstretched hand, "Let's just get this over with, shall we, Mr. Swanson?"

"Please, call me Sam." He offered a wide, toothy smile over their brief handshake and gestured to a seat in front of his desk for her.

Don't you dare give me those puppy-dog eyes, Monsieur Samuel Swanson. I won't fall for them...

Nao had, like many of her countrymen, made it her life's purpose to never trust nor enjoy the company of, an American of any variety.

"Before we begin," he had returned to his chair and was now resting his elbows upon his desk, "I'd like to ask you something more personal."

Sitting down in her own chair, Nao arched a cool brow at him, "Such as...?"

"Your accent. Are you French?"

"Yes," she replied slowly, not knowing why he would care.

"_Then,_" he continued in flawless French, "_would it be more comfortable to continue in your native tongue? Or would you prefer to stick with English?"_

Nao blinked. For her, that was as astounding a reaction as though she had gasped and fallen to the floor from her chair, "_If you like,_" she shrugged and cross her legs, black pants creasing at the knees and dark grey socks, to match her starched shirt, showing in the process, "_Where did you learn French?_" She was surprised, yes, but she was also suspicious. She had been confronted with situations like this in the past. Situations in which people who think they knew French tried to 'wow' her with their skills and only ended up making fools of themselves when they could not actually keep up with her clipped speaking pace.

He smiled, "_I met my wife in France. After living there with her for two years, we moved to London._" He gestured to the framed picture hanging behind him. Nao grunted an acknowledgement and they continued.

Mr. Swanson flipped open a folder on his desk and, turning it around so that it faced Nao, pushed it forward on the table, "_I'm sure you've already seen this evidence file, but let's go over it again." _He pointed with one broad, flat finger at a glossy photo clipped onto the upper left-hand corner, "_This is the latest victim found at Waterloo Station -"_

Nao interrupted him, "_You said the latest victim?_"

He frowned, "_Yes, of course. This is the fifth American murdered on European soil in the past four days. Now, normally, that wouldn't be much of a surprise. Americans are people, just like any others, and they get into compromising situations just like any others. The outstanding problem with _this_ case, however,_" he tapped the folder with his index finger, thick gold wedding band glinting as he did so, "_is the manner in which they were killed. All of them,_" he flipped the page to show yet another body, another girl, just like the one she and Takeda had found at Charing Cross four days ago, "_were murdered in the same fashion._"

At this, Nao was stymied. She certainly had not been given that file. Had it been sent to her and withheld by someone? Was this the missing link to her case? So far, she had not been able to extract much from what Sagisawa had deduced, though she had been hard at work trying to do so. This, though...This changed everything.

"_You can see why my country is concerned, Ms. Zhang._" Mr. Swanson leaned back, elbows planted on the arm-rests of his chair, fingers steepled over his wide chest, "_We feel that this must be investigated to the fullest extent._"

"_I agree, of course,_" she replied, pulling the document forward and lifting the pages in rapid succession to scan what the plain manila folder contained. He was right. The victims were all Americans, all young girls, all drained dry with their right hands severed cleanly at the wrists. Damn. It may have been another link in the chain of events bringing her ever closer to cracking this case, but it was a grim link, indeed. "_This is troubling news, Mr. Swanson - Uhm...I mean, Sam,_" she stumbled over his name; she was not used to calling people by their first names, it made her relationships with them seem that much more...intimate. Even with Takeda, with whom she had been working for years, she was hesitant in this area. In her line of work, one could never become too attached to those around them, "_But I'm afraid that the situation is much larger then either you or I could have realised..._"

* * *

In a dark room, the metallic creak of wheels could be heard. Feeble arms gripped the tires of a wheelchair and slowly, painfully pushed it forward. The contraption was light, new and well oiled, but those weak arms could not bear to move it any faster. Breathing, heavy and laboured, filled the darkness. Cream coloured linoleum tiles gripped the rubber-shielded tires, refusing to let them pass. Pale shadows flitted, flirting, at the edge of heavy curtains on the far side of the room opposite the wheelchair. They hid the vast expanse of starry night beyond, eternally stretching like a jeweled carpet of black velvet that flared into an ever-expanding existence.

A tall figure suddenly materialized in the room. It was a woman. She was dressed in a silvery grey dress that flowed easily about her slender figure. Great white wings spread from her shoulders, splitting the air around her like sharp knives to the sound of ticking clocks, timed slices when she moved. In her right hand was an enormous scythe the base of which rested on the ground, "Mother?" she inquired, gliding forward, the scythe vanishing into nothing as she did so.

"Chronos," a voice mewled faintly, light and quivering as a downy feather drifting to the floor, "The curtains."

The woman bowed and immediately threw open the thick material obscuring the enormous windows.

Bright liquid moonlight flooded the room, alighting upon the slender form perched in the wheelchair. In it was a girl. She couldn't have been more than fourteen years old. Her hair cascaded past her shoulders in soft waves of premature gray that seemed to shine almost lavender in the silver and amber moonlight. Pale green eyes shone from a thin face, a green the same colour as her fastidiously kept dress with white ruffled edges. Around her slender throat was wound a black chord tied to the right of her collarbone in a simple bow. Delicate features made her seem unprepossessing and fragile, but even though her assistant stood tall, glorious and radiant before her, it was she who dominated the room. None could deny her presence. It was one of absolute surety possessed by souls not of this earth.

Those pale green eyes soaked in the sight of the night sky and let loose a pent-up sigh. It were almost as if the vision were a comfort and her slender shoulders visibly relaxed. Her harsh breathing steadied now that she was no longer straining to move forward.

"If you required assistance, you should have summoned me."

The young girl only replied mournfully, "I tire of this body. I tire of this realm."

"I know, Mother," Chronos crooned soothingly, moving forward to stroke the girl's hair, "Soon. You told me so yourself. Soon."

A majestic wave of her hand had the winged assistant immediately on alert, "Move me closer to the window."

Wordlessly, her command was obeyed. The completely landscape of the starry sky through the expansive windows filled her gaze. She did not blink. She did not _need_ to blink.

"It won't be much longer now," she whispered, ignoring her attendant's hands that now rested comfortingly on her narrow shoulders, "So close..." she drew a ragged breath, and her spine curved forward as she let her head fall back, "This body is dying, failing me just as the last one before it. I do not know if another will be able to house me, any longer. I am dying, and even so, the scent of Home is upon the tongue, driving me to distraction, promising a return at last..."

"What of the Revenant? There has not been one of this magnitude since the witch, Darvulia, breached our realm and trapped the Keres within the Countess Violàsz."

A pregnant pause followed as the girl stared out, pensive, at the night sky, "The Keres alone would not be enough, but Hespera awakens. I feel her stirring...Together, they will be strong enough. They _must_ be strong enough."

"Will you do nothing?"

"No," she answered softly in reply, impassive as ever, "I will watch, and I will wait. As I have always done. As I always will." A pause filled the space between them for a moment before, "And you are not to interfere either, Chronos."

"I would never dare disobey you, Mother."

The girl chuckled and replied dryly, "Is that so? Then you would be the first of my descendants to do so."

"Your children love you."

"My children are not even aware of my existence!" Was the sudden snarling retort, "They and their children and their children's children go about their piteously meager lives with no regard to my person!"

"Then why let them? You could end everything, you could begin anew, make more worlds, other worlds whose inhabitants praise you with every breath."

The girl was silent, calm and collected once more. Her outbursts were few and far between, but they did occur every now and then: a hesitant madness brought on by larger powers still not understood by any of this world, "Yes. I could. But that is not the Way. Then, I would be no better then they. Then," her voice lowered to an anguished whisper, "I would be them. I would be the most terrible of them. The most horrific...No. That is not the Way." The girl straightened her back, large eyes reflecting the many lights of the stars, counting them, calling them by name as though each and every one were cherished treasures and caressing them with her gaze, "What sort of mother would slaughter her children simply because of their disregard and make in their stead slaves for her own compassions?"

Chronos did not answer.

What sort of mother, indeed.

* * *

**I know that many of you are probably confused. The new characters and the Revenant will be explained in the future, however. Patience is a virtue! :D**

**And now for the much anticipated lesson in elementary Hungarian! (Btw, the Hungarian word for 'Hungarian' is MAGYAR. Hence, the name for Hungary is Magyarország). Yes, I know that two of the terms in the list below I have not yet used. Fear not! They'll be showing up later...**

**(The Hungarian "r" is like the Spanish "r", with a very short trill made by the tip of the tongue. Also, it is difficult to relay to English-speakers the differences between Hungarian vowels with accents and those without. Hungarian is a Uralic language that relies upon something called 'vowel harmony' in its conjugations and declensions. In other words, the difference in sounds relies upon placement: where the sound is made in the mouth, which then changes how a word conjugates and declines. If you really want to know more, by all means go to the library or just google it.)**

**Aranyosszék**** - (uh-RUH-nyoh-seyk)**

**Árpádok**** - (AAHR-paah-dohk)**

**Báthory**** - (BAH-tohry)**

**Ecsed**** - (eh-CHEHD) - "Ecsedi" is still a very common Hungarian surname**

**Erzsébet** - **(EHR-zsuh-beht) - The "zs" is like the "s" in "pleasure" and "leisure"**

**Medveczky**** - (mehd-VEHTS-key)**

**Rákóczi**** - (RAH-kohts-ee)**

**Šizsur**** - (SHEE-zsuhr) - Actually, I put in a Hrvatska 'Š' to make her name seem more ornamented. In Magyar, it would merely be Sizsur.**

**Székely** - **(SAY-kehl)**

**Violàsz**** - (VIH-oh-luhs)**


	20. Chapter 20

**I realised that I never have Shizuru say, "Ara, ara" even though it seems to be an integral part of her existence in all the other fanfics in the known universe. That's right. I rebelled against the set standards.**

**Actually, no. I didn't. In **_**my**_** 'verse, Shizuru doesn't say "ara" because, in case you hadn't noticed, she isn't **_**JAPANESE**_**. Nope. Not in the slightest. So why, I asked myself, would she say such a thing? The short answer is, she wouldn't. The long answer is, she would. But in her **_**own**_** language, mind you, or at least a language of which she has sufficient knowledge which, in this case, would be anything from Latin, Hungarian, English, German, Greek, or French. That being said, in my 'verse Shizuru does, indeed, say "ara, ara." But not really. She says "my, my," which is a rough translation of "ara, ara." As early as chapter 3, I had her saying this and she's been saying it throughout various subsequent chapters.**

**Pedantic proclivities aside, did y'alls have a good time in the dank dark of "Seemingly-Irrelevant-Plotland"? I noticed some confusion in the reviews; it was as I expected. To clarify, everything in the last chapter was actually happening in the present. If I do flashbacks, I will make it very clear the scene is, in fact, a flashback. So, the girl the Revenant was cutting up was just another random victim.**

**Or was she...? o.O**

**Let it be known, however, that the girl was **_**not**_** Shizuru. The other Revenant, mentioned by Chronos and the still un-named girl-in-the-wheelchair (come on, people, you know her real name; who in the Mai-HIME 'verse is in a wheelchair?), whose name was Darvulia. If y'alls are history buffs, like myself, then you may have stumbled across the name Darvulia when reading about our dear Erzsi Bathory. Yes, this is **_**that**_** Darvulia. Her and Shizuru's past relationship will be explained soon along with the ever-enigmatic Nina. So, hang in there!**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

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Darkness.

The darkness was pervaded only by dancing shadows. She could see them from beneath her fluttering eyelids, but they scampered out of reach when she tried to focus on them, chattering like little imps from a far off nether realm. Slowly, she opened her eyes and allowed them time to become accustomed to the shades around her. Blearily, she made out the outline of a rectangle hovering above her. No, wait. It was supported by dark spires. Or were those columns? The rectangle lengthened, growing a ruffled fringe. It was draped in heavy cloth, royal purple, almost black: a bruised colour. Shifting slightly, she felt sheets rustle around her. She was in a bed. A four-poster bed, at that. Slowly, Natsuki rolled her head to its side on the cool, crisp pillow and looked about.

The room was starkly yet elegantly furnished, with just enough ornamentation to be regal, but not enough to be considered gaudy. Most of the ornamentation also had a second, practical purpose, such as the crossed swords above the fireplace lit with the soft glow from a bed of coals, or the eastern tea-set placed just so on the low, mahogany table in a side of the room that had been expanded out as a lounge area, surrounded by four, low-backed chairs lined with warm velvet. The same thick cloth that adorned the four-poster bed shielded the large windows. Though only a small strip of sunlight shone at the hem of the curtains, she had no trouble discerning colours and shapes.

Just as she sat up hesitantly, a door opened to her right. Natsuki glanced over and immediately wished she were still asleep.

Steam billowed out from the now open door through which a figure could be seen gliding forward. Shizuru had emerged from a spacious bathroom, humming a foreign tune quietly to herself, combing her fingers through wet locks that had darkened to an oaken hue from the water. Drops fell to her bare shoulders and proceeded to roll down onto the gold-stitched towel wrapped casually about her torso, which was the only garment she was currently wearing. The towel descended no farther than mid-thigh, giving Natsuki a generous view of Shizuru's slim legs.

Seeing Natsuki sitting up in bed, she stopped in her tracks, "Good morning, Natsuki," she greeted her, bringing her sopping wet hair around one side of her neck and twirling it with her fingers into a single large curl to dry, "How are you feeling?"

"I feel fine. Just a little chilly," Natsuki muttered, trying not to be too conspicuous in her eyeing of Shizuru's bare, sloping shoulders, beaded lightly with water, "Aren't you going to put some clothes on or something?"

Shizuru arched an amused brow and her scarlet gaze roved Natsuki's body, "What a little hypocrite Natsuki is."

"What?"

Natsuki looked down. With a yelp, she snatched the sheets up to her chest, simultaneously glaring and blushing. She was wearing nothing more than a lacy bra, thong and sheer camisole, all black, from her very own lingerie collection.

Where -? How -?

She growled wordlessly, furious.

At this, Shizuru laughed; her laughter held a certain hint of wickedness to it that only made Natsuki's blush deepen. The Countess rounded the bed and disappeared to Natsuki's left behind a sprawling oriental screen in the corner. Her darkened auric head could still be seen over the top of the screen and Natsuki had to clear her throat when she tossed the towel so that it hung over the edge, "So...How long have I been...?"

"About three days," came the calm reply.

"_Three days?_"

"Mmm," was the rather too-cheerily hummed response. Shizuru returned from behind the screen, having donned an imported cotton yukata: lavender with white, black and orange koi swimming around the hems and a light, peach border. The simple obi, a paler shade of purple than the rest of the yukata, almost lilac coloured with subtle shade gradients swirling in an undefined pattern, had been perfectly tied in the short amount of time. Natsuki wasn't really surprised, though. Shizuru may not have been Japanese, but she certainly could pull off the eastern look. All she needed was to have her hair pinned back with a chopstick and she would be set to perform a traditional tea ceremony, "Much has happened while you were resting, however I don't want you to have to worry about all that just yet."

A chill crept down Natsuki's spine, "What happened?"

Shizuru studied her for a moment from afar, before deciding to move forward and sit on the bed at Natsuki's feet. The mattress sank incrementally, "You had an Awakening."

She scowled at the overly simplistic answer, "Meaning...?"

"A god that dwells within you has been awoken."

Silence.

"A...god." Natsuki repeated, incredulous. She regarded Shizuru as though the woman had finally lost it, "Right..."

Shizuru looked her straight in the eye and asked, "Why would I lie to you? Don't you remember anything?"

She did remember. The images were fuzzy and painful, but they were there. The swirling light. The Cynthian soldiers shrieking as they were lifted into the air. The vampire guard hauling her into the dungeons over one shoulder. She couldn't deny that they had happened.

Oh yes. She remembered. She just wished she didn't.

"Then," she began slowly, "I guess the next question is: What god?"

"That is precisely what I want to find out."

Without further ado, the Countess reached out abruptly and Natsuki balked.

"What're you -?"

"Just relax, Natsuki."

Shizuru leaned forward from where she sat beside her on the bed and placed both hands on either side of Natsuki's face. Tense, Natsuki did not move. She wished to lean back, but Shizuru's grip on her cheeks and jaw was far too insistent; she'd probably end up loosing an ear if she tried. Instead, she allowed Shizuru to drift closer until she could just detect the woman's steady breaths sweep across her chin. For but a moment she thought she could see lighter specks, almost inverted freckles, sprinkled across the bridge Shizuru's proud nose, like flecks of snow upon the facade of a marble statue. Then, brilliant vermilion eyes filled her vision; she was being swallowed up in burgundy tides deep as the wine-dark waters that bore a thousand-fleeted force to Troy. The famed Spartan Whore had no claim to beauty, not with the sight of the Countess before her, within her very reach.

_Did not my mother bear me to be a monster to the world?...'tis a small thing that moment of ridding the flesh of life. Yes, it must be; I am plunged so deep in misery; for that beauty, which to other women is a boon, to me hath been a very bane._ (1)

Natsuki was transfixed. Her ears, hollowed, rang with soft murmurs and a slow fire dragged through her entire frame. Her heart trailed off in its agile bruit. She seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.

"What is your name?" Shizuru asked, voice calm, soothing in that supple lilting accent.

Natsuki was nonplussed by the question, "Natsuki Kruger?"

Face impassive, Shizuru responded by flicking Natsuki squarely between the eyes.

"Ow!" she rubbed at the sharp pain on her brow, one eye squinting, "What the hell was that for?"

"I told Natsuki to relax," Shizuru chided, scowling down at the dark-haired girl.

Natsuki grumbled, still rubbing her forehead, "Yea...well...It's hard to relax with you being so close to me, and all..."

"Oh?" Those crimson eyes glinted, and the frown turned into a small, teasing smile.

_Shit. I'm in for it now..._

Shizuru leaned in to whisper, intoxicating, into Natsuki's ear, her warm breath sending a thready shivery through the girl's body, "Do I make Natsuki _nervous_?"

Face flushing a deep pink, she stammered, "N-no! That's not wh-what I m-meant!"

"Then do as I say and relax."

Natsuki blinked at the sudden absence of Shizuru's heat against her as the woman pulled away. Grasping Natsuki's pale face between her hands once more, she said firmly, "We are going to try this again."

The Countess returned to their previous position, eyes staring unblinkingly into Natsuki's own. Natsuki had no idea what was supposed to be happening. Had the woman lost her mind? Or was she just crazy to begin with? She silently debated with herself between the two options, coming to the conclusion that it was most likely a mixture of both. The longer she and Shizuru looked at one another in this position, the stronger that eerie feeling of weightlessness pervaded her senses. Her body did not seem to want to just plain _work_ with Shizuru around, so close to her, touching her, looking at her as though scouring her very being and marking key points for future reference. She was not a damn science-experiment! Feeling herself becoming lost in her own skin once more, Natsuki tried to root herself to something, anything that might make the swooping ache dissipate, or even lessen. She focused on taking deep even breaths.

In and out. Slowly. In and-

"Stop breathing."

Natsuki had had enough, "Now, how the fuck am I supposed to _stop breathing_?" Her voice had risen angrily and with great irritation.

"Because you don't _need_ to breath," Shizuru replied serenely, as though speaking of the most natural thing in the world, "And it's breaking your concentration."

"This is ridiculous," she fumed, starting to rise, "I'm getting out of here."

She was half-way to her feet when she realised that from the waist down she was wearing nothing more than a black lace thong that was not covered in the slightest by the sheer camisole that also exposed a matching bra. She blushed. Traitorous lingerie. She had been faithful to them and their kind for all these long years and _this_ was how they repaid her?

Before she could do anything, however, she suddenly found herself flat on her back with Shizuru hovering over her. As soon as Natsuki had moved, the Countess had pushed her onto the bed by the shoulders, saying with a mild hint of exasperation, "It seems I must take a different approach. Forgive me." The last was spoken so softly, Natsuki almost missed it.

In a rustle of her lavender yukata, the hems of which hiked up her thighs, Shizuru planted a knee on either side of Natsuki's hips and, tossing her silky mane of hair over one shoulder, now held the girl down by the wrists. For a brief moment, Natsuki squirmed in an attempt to escape, but the actions only made her blush intensify. The insides of Shizuru's smooth thighs brushed against her waist when she moved, and the sheer heat of the woman atop her was enough to rival even the heat blossoming across her cheeks.

Instead, Natsuki stopped and tried a different tactic, "Let. Me. Go." She said through gritted teeth.

That green glare merely glanced off Shizuru's mental armour, "Make me."

"You know I can't!" she yelled, "You're a vampire! You're stronger than I am!"

"Am I?"

Frustrated, she pushed at Shizuru's hands to no effect, "Shizuru -!"

But her voice was muffled by a downy pillow pressing on her face.

"Am I stronger than you, Natsuki? Am I?" the Countess' words still came clearly, softly, calmly even as she held the white pillow to Natsuki's head, "Am I a vampire? Or am I something else? Are _you_ something else?"

Natsuki's body was flailing wildly beneath her now, her hands grabbing at Shizuru's arms, pulling, her legs thrashing, twisting in the bed sheets, her hips bucking. It felt like drowning, like she were drowning in a lake of warmth and feathers and her lungs burned for air. A stifled scream could barely be heard through the pillow, and still Shizuru did not move. Her face remained impassive the entire time.

Through the searing desperation tearing a path through her, Natsuki could still hear Shizuru speaking. The pillow was growing damp from where her mouth gasped, opened wide for any manner of air that might enter it. She could feel the spreading dampness on her cheeks. Or were those tears?

"What is your name?" Shizuru's voice became more insistent now and the pressure applied to Natsuki's head increased.

The burning cold had returned. It was smouldering within her, an ageless frigidity. Vaguely, she felt her body arch upwards at the frore intrusion but she could not see the fine veins of light that burgeoned all across her form. Natsuki's throat worked to respond, to beg Shizuru to let her go, to beg for her life, but that was not what came from her mouth.

"_Hespera."_

Her thrashing ceased. Her needy, gasping breaths ceased. The dank warmth still pressed in on her, but she no longer seemed to realise it was there; it had faded away along with the cold. Emerald eyes stared, wide and disbelieving as Shizuru removed the pillow, allowing her to finally see once more. The Countess placed the pillow aside, revealing Natsuki's flushed face, trembling lower lip and pleading eyes and before she could stop herself she reached out to gently stroke her dark hair, "Forgive me, Natsuki," she murmured. Natsuki silently cursed the tender expression in that scarlet gaze. How did she manage to look so...bloody...sorry? "I tried to go about it nicely, but..." she sighed and continued caressing Natsuki's hair, "Forgive me."

Natsuki swallowed in an attempt to wet her dry throat. She did not stop Shizuru from touching her. Closing her eyes, she could almost pretend that Shizuru actually cared for her and thus accepted her calming touches. (2) She needed to be soothed and comforted more than she need to be independent, right now. She could hold off on the "Ice Princess" routine for a little while longer. Shizuru seemed quite content to play that part, for she continued, moving her other hand up to cup Natsuki's damp right cheek and brush the soft skin over the round bone with her thumb. It reminded her of how she had held the wolf-pup in that dungeon cell. She too knew how it felt, being trapped, helpless...

"The puppy!" Her eyes shot open and her torso rose from the bed until she was almost in an upright position. Her sudden movement, however, surprised Shizuru. Natsuki blushed deeply when it occurred to her just how close they were at that moment. Their noses were almost brushing and she could see the slightly darker edges of Shizuru's irises as her eyes widened fractionally. It were as though the scarlet light burned in the centre of her eyes, fading as it went, streaking with rubescent hues to a ring the colour of maple leaves in deepest autumn.

"My, my," the Countess breathed, not backing away. Indeed, she seemed to be taking the time to more closely study Natsuki's features now that the girl was so close.

Clearing her throat, Natsuki lowered herself to the mattress once more and looked away. She would have liked to get out from beneath Shizuru, but asking her would only give the woman more ammunition for her teasing-artillery, which was already far too expansive for her own tastes, "Uh...I mean..." the words fumbled fiercely on her clumsy tongue, "What happened to the animals in the dungeon?"

"They are being taken care of," Shizuru assured her, regarding the space between them with a shadow of distaste and though her words were as placid as ever, she seemed somewhat..._disappointed?_ Natsuki shook her head. No, that couldn't be right, "Your wolf friend survived along with half a dozen others."

"That's good..." she breathed, draping her forearm across her brow and letting out a small huff of air. For a few anxious moments, silence reigned between them until, finally, Natsuki asked the question she had been wanting to know for the past ten minutes, "Shizuru?"

"Mmm?" Shizuru's warm hand had returned to its place, fingers raking slowly through blue-black strands like a dark, Japanese stone-garden.

"Wh-what's Hespera?"

The hand did not stop in its consoling path, "Hespera is one of the Hesperides: Guardians of the tree that bears golden fruit, Nymphs of Evening, Sunset Goddesses. Hespera, in particular, is the Goddess of the Cold Night Star." (3)

Natsuki removed her arm and stared up at Shizuru with incredulity, "_Sunset Goddesses?_"

"My, my, Natsuki!" Shizuru gazed down at her, amused, "You sound dissatisfied!"

"No..." she grumbled, glancing away again, "It's just...kinda lame..." her voice became softer, meeker and finally trailed off in the end.

Shizuru, too, turned her head away, but to hide a smile, "Lame?" she pushed down the laughter bubbling in her chest, "The only way it would be _lame_ is if Natsuki were possessed by Hephaestus." (4)

Natsuki knew enough of the main Olympian gods to direct an admonishing glare at Shizuru. The glare quickly melted, however, and her expression became anxious, furrowing her brows, "Possessed?"

Shizuru recognized the uneasy tone, "No," she shook her head, "That was the wrong word, forgive me. It's more akin to..." she tapped her lips thoughtfully with one finger, "being infused with the immortal spirit of the god in question."

"Oh..." The single syllable was almost too quiet to hear. The worried lines remained on Natsuki's face.

Reaching down, Shizuru gently turned Natsuki's head toward her once more, "It is not necessarily a bad thing, Natsuki," she assured her, seeing the troubled green gaze soften slightly, "You are still in complete control of your faculties, and with a little practice, you can learn to harness this power and bend it, guide it to your will. If you like, I can teach you."

The girl merely hummed a response, yet she did not say no.

A corner of Shizuru's mouth lilted upwards in a tender half-smile. She did not like seeing Natsuki disquieted in any fashion. Immediately, she changed the subject, her eyes brightening with mischief, "At least there is one thing we can be grateful for."

Natsuki frowned, "What's that?"

Shizuru grinned down at her, "Well! This remarkable discovery solves the mystery of Natsuki's trademark sunset blushes."

"Shizuru!"

Shizuru laughed as Natsuki shoved at her, trying to throw her off or at least roll her over to gain the upper hand, but her laughter was soon broken by a hiss of surprise and a widening of red eyes. When Natsuki had started pushing at her, the girl had accidentally discovered her secret. A secret only three people had ever known in all her years of living. A secret she had been safeguarding for centuries. A secret that could easily be her undoing in the wrong hands.

Shizuru was ticklish.

Mai and Shiho walked together down one of the hallways of Parliament. Their strides were stiff and neither seemed to be enjoying the other's company very much. They did not speak. In fact, their eyes very carefully never met. Out of a nervous habit, Mai still wore her Cynthian armour, though she had left the helm in her militaristic, overly-neat quarters. On the other hand, the vampire girl had donned her typical frilly dress, a powder-blue Victorian era dress with copious amounts of white ruffles and a wide hoop-skirt. Her characteristic twin-tailed hair had been brushed out today, held back from her pale face by a lacy white head-band that tied beneath her chin with a small bow. Their footsteps echoed, Mai's deep and resounding clad in her broad boots, Shiho's sharp and tapping with her white leather, silver-buckled shoes.

The only thing the two shared in common were the identical folders held in each of their hands: reports for their respective leaders.

The Cynthian Company had been, by and large, moved to Parliament. It had been, actually, Shiho who suggested it. According to her, it would suggest a show of unity to their enemies and start off the difficult beginning stages of the Cynthian Company and their long time enemies, the vampires, finally working together. Discord was expected, but Midori and Shizuru had both seen the wisdom of the vampire girl's words. Midori had wisely refused to completely give up Phaesporia, claiming that the laboratories there would need to remain along with her science and most of her research staff, though she had agreed to bring the majority of her soldiers and Operatives. The second half of her reasoning had been two-sided: Phaesporia's location was still unknown to the vampire population, making it easy to use as a fall-back headquarters should Parliament fail in that area, yet this also served the purpose of keep Phaesporia a secret should the vampires in their present company betray them.

And so Mai and Shiho found themselves working together, both as direct underlings to Shizuru and Midori. Uncomfortably. Neither liked the situation, but they accepted it. For now.

They arrived at Viola's personal quarters and Shiho knocked.

Peals of mellifluous laughter could be heard from inside, issuing through the heavy wooden door.

"Ahh! No! Not there -!"

The yelp that followed was mixed with uncontrollable laughter, overshadowed by a victorious whoop.

"What on earth...?" Mai arched a quizzical brow and looked at Shiho.

The vampire girl shrugged, expressionless as always. Raising her hand to knock again, louder this time, Shiho cocked her head to listen for an answer. None came. The occupants of the room were incredibly occupied, it seemed.

"Should we..." Mai started, angling her body away already, "Come back later...?"  
"No," With nary a batted eyelash, Shiho shifted the folder in her grasp and opened the door.

They stepped inside and the scene that met Mai's eyes made her stop dead in her tracks as though frozen solid. Her moth dropped open. She gaped.

Two people wrestled on the bed, two people she had never expected to be in such a situation. Natsuki was pinned beneath none other than Shizuru Viola, grinning triumphantly while the other gasped, breathless from laughter. Viola was clinging to Natsuki's arms, trying to keep the girl from her tickling assault on her sensitive sides, just beneath her ribs.

"S-Stop!" Viola gasped, tears forming at the corners of her clenched eyes, "_Natsuki!_"

An uncharacteristic giggle escaped Natsuki and she redoubled her efforts.

Mai felt as though her eyes would pop right out of her skull.

"Ahem..." Shiho cleared her throat and riffled her papers more noisily than necessary to announced their presence.

The two on the bed finally noticed their visitors. They froze, deer caught in the headlights.

Still gasping for air, Shizuru breathed, "My, my..."

On the other hand, Natsuki's face steadily turned a bright beet-red, starting from her neck and rising to the crown of her head, disappearing into her hairline as though someone were pouring boiling water into a hold on the top of her head. For a moment, no one moved. Then Natsuki was pushing at Viola, urging her away.

"Shizuru!" she hissed, "Get off!"

Still slightly stunned, though her expression was only one of mild amusement, Viola began to rise, sliding one knee from its straddling position and lifting herself from the girl with her arms. Her retreat, however, revealed what had previously been hidden by her yukata-clad body.

Lingerie.

Black, lacy lingerie.

Mai choked, mouth clacking shut.

Noticing what had just happened, Natsuki let loose a startled squawk and jerked Shizuru back over her. The Countess landed squarely, sprawled, across the girl whose arms had wrapped around her waist and held her close in a trembling, vice-like grip like her own personal, protective blanket.

"Natsuki is being very affectionate today," Shizuru murmured into the girl's shoulder.

"Shut up," the girl grumbled, voice muffled by the cloth of Shizuru's lavender yukata, "And don't you dare move."

With a throaty chuckle, Viola craned her neck to look at the newcomers, "Apparently I am indisposed at the moment." Her grin glinted in the low light of the room, sharp fangs peeking out from beneath her upper lip in a rare display of true enjoyment, "You may leave your report on the desk, Shiho."

Shiho gave a deep curtsy and crossed the room quickly, though without showing her haste, lightly placing her folder on the table that held an oriental tea-set. Before Mai could even register that she had done so, the vampire girl was back by her side, having dropped another curtsy, and was tugging at Mai's arm impatiently. Still staring, Mai allowed herself to be pulled out of the room; she couldn't tear her eyes from the sight. And then they were outside the room once more.

"Th-They..." Mai spluttered, hand raised, pointing incredulously at the shut door, "They were..."

Shiho just scowled irritably at her like she was some sort of mentally handicapped child that did nothing but get under her feet. Turning, she left Mai standing there, but not before announcing softly, "I'll see you in a few hours at the Banquet Hall. Don't be late."

Shaking her head to rid herself of the image of Natsuki and Viola seared into her mind, Mai lowered her hand. She had forgotten the folder was in her other, however, and when she lifted it to rub at her eyes as though just waking from a particularly bad dream, it fell from her grasp. Papers scattered across the stone floor. Swearing, Mai stooped to gather them up and stalked off towards Midori's room, re-organising the folder's contents as she went. All the while, her mind worked furiously, cogs turning at an accelerated rate.

How...? Natsuki had genuinely seemed to be enjoying herself. How could she feel safe enough to enjoy herself when in the clutches of a monster. Not just any monster, _the _monster. A monster that could destroy all manner of life in a kilometer radius without breaking a sweat and feel a complete lack of guilt for actions that would constitute war-crimes such as this world has never seen.

And Natsuki had been tickling her.

There could be only one reasonable explanation.

The world had gone mad.

_Ah,_ the snide little voice in her head began, oozing accusation, _But you enjoyed yourself in the same position, didn't you?_

No. That wasn't true.

_Then Reito means nothing to you, does he?_

Reito Kanzaki, the Black Prince, will die by my hands, and mine alone.

_An excellent explanation for not pulling the trigger when you had him._

I...He knew. He knew I was there.

_Even better. He would have known that you ended him, put a whole the size of Sussex through his nonexistent heart and scattered his ashes to the winds._

I was in shock after not having seen him for so long. All I could think about was when he captured me.

_You let yourself be captured,_ it hissed,_ trained, like some sort of lap-dog_.

No. I couldn't have done anything.

_You could have done something. Anything._

He was stronger than I.

_You could have been stronger._

He brainwashed me. There's no way -

_You allowed it to happen. You even liked it sometimes._

NO! He had Takumi!

_Yes. And then, after all that, you let Reito kill him_.

Mai knew that was where the argument was going to end. It always ended there with her, silent and brooding, fighting back the sting of shame and guilt and loss.

She realised that she was standing in front of Mai's door, now. How long had she been there, staring as though wishing to memorise the pattern of grain in the wood, as though envious of an inanimate object that did not have to feel anything at all? She didn't know. People passing by were beginning to look at her as though she had lost her mind, glancing at her askance from beneath lowered brows. Clearing her throat, Mai gathered herself and knocked.

"Come in."

Well, at least _one _person actually answered when someone knocked on the door.

Midori sat behind a large glass desk supported by curled pewter legs. The room itself was not exceptionally big nor in any way grand, though Mai knew that it was merely a lounge and that Midori's spacious personal quarters flared out behind another door to the right. Still, its dark tones highlighted by the more modern glass accessories gave it a certain air of authority. Though that may have just been issuing from Midori herself. The woman always seemed to be in full command of the space around her. It was her place to lead and not be led.

Unbeknownst to her, this was the same room in which Midori had killed the young vampire boy. She had specifically requested it for her own when they had agreed to move Cynthian staff into Parliament.

She looked over a sheet of paper at Mai, then returned to studying it, olive green eyes skimming across its surface with ease, "You look troubled."

Mai grunted and sat down on one of the chairs in front of Midori's desk, crossing her legs and leaning the folder on one of her thighs, "You were right..." she grumbled.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to be a bit more specific," Midori retorted dryly.

Damn the woman, "About Natsuki and Viola. You were right."

Her superior lowered the page and regarded her with raised eyebrows that said, _I told you so._

"Oh, shut up."

Midori sniffed and raised the page again, "I wasn't aware that I said anything."

"You didn't need to."

"No," the Cynthian Leader mused, a hint of a smile playing about her lips, "I guess I didn't."

Sighing, Mai gave up. She leaned forward and placed the folder on Midori's desk, careful not to disrupt the ordered chaos that was always scrambled atop it. Honestly, she didn't know how Midori could work like this. She, herself, would have gone crazy; she could never keep track of things in this manner, "Here's the report on the activities between Artemisian personnel and those now acting under Viola," she began matter-of-factly, speaking as Midori dragged the folder toward her and flipped it open to peruse its contents, "Tensions have been running high, but that's only to be expected. As of yet, there have been no outbreaks of physical violence, though some quarrels have already arisen..."

She continued, giving an exact summary of her report, though the entire time she spoke with her superior, her mind was elsewhere.

_You let him,_ the voice whispered, always whispered in her mind, _You let him..._

* * *

**(1) A mixed quote from Euripides' **_**Helen**_**.**

**(2) thus: the word "thus" here does not denote the usual usage of the word "thus". In English, "thus" can mean both "therefore" and "in such a way". Normally, it is used as "therefore." Here, however, I mean "in such a way". Ergo, the sentence's sense changes to "...she could almost pretend that Shizuru actually cared for her and thus (in such a way) accepted her calming touches."**

**(3) Hespera: There are many discrepancies in the myths surrounding the Hesperides. Some sources list three, others nine. They are rather like the Muses, in that sense, as the Muses were originally three, then five, then nine, more or less. Hespera is mainly attributed with being the Nymph of the Evening, but I have sort of combined Hespera with Asterope and somewhat with Aegle as well (Asterope being "starry-faced" and Aegle being "sun-light / radiance"). The first myths record the garden of the Hesperides being in the West, but that later changed to the South-East. In this story, however, since Natsuki is from Western Europe, I shall be sticking with the prior, western position.**

**(4) Hephaestus was the lame, limping smith-god, and the god of fire, son of Juno. Hence Shizuru's amusement. She is easily amused, it seems, by such an awful and quite blatant pun.**

**As a side note, one of my biggest flaws in writing is my rather loose application of commas (the Latinist in me is pulling out her hair and screaming "COMMAE, not **_**commas**_**, you twat!"). But honestly, I throw around commas (*cough* **_**commae **_***cough*) like they're the fistfuls of pennies I wish I could chuck at my neighbor's car.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Fine! Fine! I give in! Take your ShizNat! And be grateful! **

**The next two chapters will be very ShizNat oriented. Now it's all character development with me, the poor lowly author, trying to sneak in some plot like a pet owner trying to sneak a pill rolled up in ham so that the bloody dog will actually eat it. "No! I said swallow, damn you! How **_**dare**_** you disobey me! I AM YOUR LORD AND MASTER!" **

**That actually is how I speak to my dog, by the way. In a joking manner, I might add. I'm not mean. God, no! If anyone were really mean to my big lovable black lab, I'd probably strangle that person then proceed to desecrate their sorry corpse. Even just reading something like "Water for Elephants" chokes me up a bit.**

**Technically, I had actually already planned to give y'alls a large dosage of ShizNat after all that strange mumbo-jumbo, voodoo-hoodoo of chapter 19. After these next few chapters, though, it's back to Plotland! You will read it and you will **_**like it**_**. **

**So there :P**

**In all seriousness, 'twere I reading this instead of writing it, I'd be yelling at the two characters depicted on the screen, "For the love of -! Just **_**mount **_**each other already! Why must you deny me this? Author! Give me that which I desire or I will sacrifice you to **_**Hekate Propylaia**_**! Along with a sleek, white heifer which I will offer up to the great, celestial beings for rain..."**

**Now, on with the angst!**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

Natsuki couldn't, for the life of her, understand what had happened.

One day, she and Shizuru were exchanging their usual repartee, which Natsuki was starting to genuinely enjoy (though she would never tell the woman that; she'd never hear the end of it), and the next, Shizuru wouldn't even look her in the eye.

Had she done something wrong?

Over and over, Natsuki replayed the events of the past few days in her head, but no clue arose from her scouring and re-scouring that could possibly explain Shizuru's actions.

At first, she had thought it was because she acquired and moved into her own quarters, away from Shizuru. But that had been two and a half days ago. If the woman found it offensive, wouldn't she have shown some sign of such sentiments when it happened? It had not been until yesterday evening that Shizuru started avoiding her.

Well...not exactly avoiding her, per se. They still spent hours together every day. Hell, the majority of her time these days was spent with Shizuru. Natsuki had tried to socialise more by visiting Mai, but the District Officer had been brusque, making excuses about being busy. It didn't help that a new hardness had been added to the line of Mai's jaw, probably received from stress, or that the vampire, Shiho, occupied her friend's time, dragging her around Parliament on their suddenly intertwined duties. She didn't know anybody else besides her boss, Midori, (or was that ex-boss?) and hanging out with her would just be plain _awkward_. Another person might have endeavored to making new acquaintances, but that had never been Natsuki's forte. She couldn't just go out a _meet _people; she didn't know how to properly act in those situations.

And that left Shizuru.

Previously, whenever she and Shizuru were together, the woman would always find excuses to touch her. Nothing inappropriate. Just small things: the brushing of her fingers at Natsuki's shoulder, at her arm, her hair. When Shizuru had first started doing this back in Phaesporia - that all felt so long ago, now; she still thought at times that perhaps this was all a bizarre dream - Natsuki had jumped like a skittish colt shying away from the halter. But now...Now, she was used to it and its absence was marked down in her mind as strange. That, in and of itself, was enough to give her pause. More, she found herself missing those brief, simple moments of contact.

True to her word, Shizuru had started training Natsuki in the foreign art of controlling her new-found powers. They'd had two 'lessons' thus far and the task presented to her was proving to be far easier than she had originally thought. Shizuru had started her off with releasing and withdrawing her blazing white aura like it was a set of retractable claws. She'd mastered that without much trouble, much to Shizuru's approval. Then it had been closing her eyes and allowing herself to sense her surroundings, more importantly, the people around her.

During that lesson, taken once more seated in Shizuru's quarters, Natsuki had asked Shizuru a question she had been thinking about for some time.

"Shizuru?"

"Hmm?"

"What exactly _are_ you?"

For a moment, the Countess had not answered, "Can't you tell, Hespera?"

Natsuki's dark brows had met together in a scowl, "You know I don't like it when you call me that."

"Why is that? It is one of your names, is it not?"

"Stop avoiding my question."

Shizuru had simply blinked at her. When her eyes were revealed once more, they blazed forth with that scarlet light Natsuki had come to know so well, "You tell me."

Confused, Natsuki had just looked at her. But then, she'd really _looked_ at her. Looked into those familiar crimson eyes bleeding a bloody light into the air around them. And what she had seen there made her gasp aloud.

A Ker. An embodiment of cruel death, a death on the battle-field, a bloody death. It had not been a single Ker, however. Oh, no. It was the Keres.

All of them.

Clustered within one body, raging, baying for bloody-strife, clawing at the walls of Shizuru's person for release, infecting those she Turned with a wild thirst.

And Shizuru had sat there, calm as an untouched pool nestled in a mountainside.

Soon after this rather unsavoury discussion, she had been taught how to manipulate her primary element, light. This was her favourite so far. When lying in bed, alone in her room, she would find herself idly making spheres of light dance through the air in a swirling waltz. Or even when she now woke to go to the bathroom at odd hours of the night, she would summon up a radiant globe of cold light to lead her way instead of fumbling to the opposite side of the room and flicking on the light-switch like she normally would have done in the past.

Just then, she realised that she was more perturbed by the fact that Shizuru was no longer touching her as much as she used to than the overwhelmingly more pressing issue of suddenly being aware of a god living inside of her, infiltrating her person like some sort of infectious disease or parasite that could take control of her mind and body the instant she got a little fright from walking around the corner and bumping into a door. She was a walking time bomb and here she was concerned because a blood-thirsty, millennium old woman whose body housed all the shades of violent death refused to "look at her the same way."

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_

Apparently she had paused in her ministrations during her musings because the wolf-pup in her lap nudged her hand with his muzzle. Blinking, Natsuki continued petting the smooth fur of his head, idly playing with his black-tipped ears.

The truth was, Natsuki didn't _feel_ any different. All her life she'd supposedly had this god slumbering within her. Nothing felt radically different.

Ok. That was a lie.

There was the fact that she was strangely immune to weather and temperature. She had always preferred cooler weather, which was a good thing she supposed because all she ever felt now was vaguely chilly. Not in a discomforting sense. It was actually rather pleasant. Still, her body now no longer seemed to care for external temperature and therefore simply ignored it. The first time, it had been more of a nagging question lingering in the back of her mind. She'd awoken in her own bed at Westminster Palace two days ago, just the day after she had first awoken in Shizuru's bed - the thought still made her cheeks turn pink - and she couldn't register the usual feeling of waking up in a warm bed. In fact, to her knowledge, the bed hadn't been warm at all even though she hadn't moved from beneath the sheets since she first crawled beneath them nine hours before. But then, it was later that same morning when a cup of steaming hot coffee sloshed all across her wrist and forearm in the Banquet Hall when she'd accidentally bumped into a Cynthian soldier. She had hissed in pain purely out of instinct, for she had expected it to burn. It hadn't. She'd barely been able to feel the tingling warmth that spread across her skin where the scalding liquid had landed. She might have gone on thinking that the coffee was just cold, but the soldier had yelp and clutched his arm where he had been lightly splashed.

That was when she knew something was wrong.

Then there was the little affair of her diet.

It wasn't that Natsuki was never hungry. The hunger was there, but it was something she could easily forget about and did quite frequently these past few days. Others had greater appetites than her own, but she had never been one to starve herself or even miss a meal. The first day, she'd gone without eating anything and she hadn't even realised it. The next day, she'd headed down to the Banquet Hall, but had only picked at her food sans gusto.

However, just this afternoon, she'd been walking by the stands of fruit in the Banquet Hall, tray in tow, when she'd stopped dead in her tracks. A heavenly smell assaulted her senses. Whirling around for the source, her eyes had alighted upon a basket of apples. As though in a trance, she had dropped her tray of food on the ground and scrambled over to them where she commenced picking up an apple as though it were a saintly relic. She had brought the red and gold orb to her nose and inhaled deeply, her entire form had quivered and she'd quite literally salivated. As soon as she had sunk her teeth into the crisp flesh, she had fallen to her knees with a barely restrained moan.

Just thinking about it now made her legs go weak.

Needless to say, Natsuki had gotten a few stares. In fact, she had needed to be escorted from the premises, but not before she had grabbed the entire basket of apples and dragged them out with her, refusing to be parted from them. (1)

As of now, she'd already eaten a dozen and a half and still she craved more. She'd even devoured the cores and the seeds. She'd had to forcibly remove herself from clutching the basket of apples to her chest like her life depended on it. God, but nothing had ever tasted so _good_. Mayo paled in comparison, and that thought alone had made her blanch. Something was definitely different.

That was when she had decided to get far away from the apples and thereby found herself here with a puppy in her lap.

Here was a warmly lit room exclusive to the puppy, which had grown remarkably large since she last say him just a few days before. She thought, perhaps, that he would stop growing soon since his withers already reached her knees, but the vampire who had been assigned as caretaker, a young man by the name of Endymion whose company Natsuki rather enjoyed for he seemed to genuinely care for the animals' safety and comfort - probably why Shizuru chose him for the job - had informed her that the puppy would continue to grow a great deal more if fed and tended to properly. Endymion, whom she fondly referred to as "End" during their brief interludes with one another, had proposed that Natsuki care for the pup herself, if she wished, claiming that the companionship would be good for him; wolves were pack animals, after all. Natsuki had readily agreed and made a point of visiting for at least a good hour every day. Technically, this was a part of the dungeons, but unlike the dungeon in which the animals had been found, this place had been outfitted and equipped to accommodate them comfortably, each with their own spacious room. Brightly coloured toys littered the floor; she had used them earlier to wear the puppy out, indulging in a fierce game of "tug-of-war" that the puppy had won and gone prancing around the room as though in a victory lap, tail wagging in the air like a flag. Natsuki was quite pleased with the arrangement, truth be told. Currently, she was leaning against the far wall, the wolf-pup curled up between her sprawled legs. She could hear End humming softly to himself as he cleaned the room next-door which housed the eagle that had glared so calculatingly at Natsuki during their entrapment together. The wolf's silvery fur was scattered with streaks of dark gray and black. His ears and tail looked like they had been dipped in ink.

"Who's such a good puppy?" she asked, voice higher than normal, almost sing-song in quality, "Is it you? Hmm? Oh, yes it is!"

His broad tail started thumping on the floor at her words and he gazed up at her with those deep red eyes. When she started ruffling the fur of his neck, scratching, he raised his head and arched it back to direct her hand to the optimal scratching position. Chuckling, she indulged him and his hind foot raised of its own accord, flailing wildly in the air in a most canine display of pleasure, "Silly puppy..." she murmured, leaning down to plant a brief kiss to his brow.

When she stopped, he licked his chops, satisfied, before moving to her hand, his large tongue lapping at her wrist in an expression of endearing gratitude.  
"Thanks," Natsuki grinned down at him, green eyes sparkling, "I just love getting slobbered on."

To her surprise, he stopped and huffed at her. He then rested his chin back on her thigh, closing his eyes.

"You know what?" she began, regarding him with a small smile, "I think you need a name."

The pup's ears perked, questioning.

She played with the silky triangles that were his ears, her smile turning melancholy, and she confessed, "I always wanted a dog, but they would never let me have one..." His eyes opened, watching her, listening, "One of my foster-families had a dog," she screwed up her face, sticking out her tongue, "But he was small and yappy. So annoying. Plus, he hated me because I wasn't actually family. It was almost like he knew I didn't belong there..." He blinked owlishly at her, "But you don't care about that, do you?"

To this, he huffed again then proceeded to bury his nose in her crotch, snuffling for good effect.

"Oy!" she tugged at the thick fur of his neck, but he ignored her, happily snorting away, begging for more attention, "Alright. Fine. You win." Her smile brightened and she pet him some more, letting her mind wander while she did so.

"Duran."

Immediately, the wolf-pup's head lifted.

She repeated herself, "Duran."

He cocked his head, tail wagging, and whined.

"Do you like that name, then? Duran?"

He barked, clambering to his feet in order to lavish her face with slobbery kisses.

Laughing, Natsuki pushed him away, wiping at her face which she hadn't been able to pull away in time, "I get it! I get it! Duran it is!"

Butting her chest with his head, Duran bore a wolfish smile characteristic of dogs, panting into her shirt. She wrapped her arms around him and closed her eyes, breathing in the clean scent of his fur. End must have bathed him just that morning, for he smelled of lavender soap. A hint of wildness still streaked beneath the civilised veneer, a tangy, metallic smell that filled her nostrils and lingered on the tip of her tongue. He smelled almost like Shizuru.

_Shizuru..._

And so the question remained, nagging at the very fore of her mind: What was up with Shizuru? And more importantly, why did she care?

* * *

Drip.

Bright, crimson eyes were partially hidden behind heavy lids. An arm rested on the side of an enormous tub, porcelain and set into the gray marble floor, dark squares that were streaked with cream and set apart by staggered diamonds of black slate. Steam rose from the surface of the still water in which a body soaked, misting the large mirrors set on the walls. Tips of hair around snowy shoulders dipped in the water, floating lazily, stained a dark gold by the water.

Drip.

The shining chrome faucet hadn't been turned off all the way and consequently its nozzle leaked periodically. She would have leaned forward to change that, but she rather liked it how it was. It gave her some measure of rhythm, like a metronome steadily, slowly ticking away. Besides, she was too lazy to move.

Drip.

Shizuru lounged in the bath, loosing herself to the soothing heat. She couldn't remember how long she had been lying there, completely stretched out with room to spare. This was far superior to Natsuki's bath at the girl's small apartment. She was enjoying the experience immensely. Her pleasure would have been optimised, however, had she not been plagued by recent events.

_Natsuki..._

Her brows furrowed irritably. The dark-haired girl filled her thoughts more than she would have normally liked. Especially now that she knew the truth behind the mystery that was Natsuki Kruger.

She wished now that she didn't know.

She had waited for what she had perceived to be the best moment to summon Haruka and question her about recent events. Well...Granted, it had been more of an interrogation. Getting the woman to appear was a task unto itself, nearly a heroic labour. Midori had claimed that Haruka was deceased, but Shizuru knew better. Haruka was too powerful to have been so easily dispatched.  
Haruka had been surprisingly adamant about not appearing when summoned. Shizuru would not be denied however. She knew that the best way to summon fate was to flout it and, eventually, Haruka had deigned to appear.

She had not been pleased about it. And she had most definitely not been alone.

Shizuru had merely smiled at the three figures who had materialized in her room not two days ago.

She may have not been expecting all three Moirae to pop up, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. A small girlish looking figure with a sword twice as tall had appeared, sharpening said sword with a whetstone and glancing up at Shizuru with a bored look over her work as though she were an annoying fly that buzzed around her dark head. The other was a young woman seated cross-legged on the floor with brown hair falling about her face, silently spinning, ever spinning, thread from a gray and black spool in her lap. She didn't even look at Shizuru. Haruka, of course, had appeared at the head of the trio bearing a belligerent scowl, furious at being summoned in such a manner, brandishing her measuring tool at Shizuru like a mace.

She had greeted them cordially in turn, "Mikoto. Yukino." she'd grinned at the last, "Haruka."

"What do you think you're doing?" Haruka had snarled.

"I have some questions for you three."

An irritated growl rumbled from the blonde Fate, "We are not your personal sources of information!" she hissed, knuckles whitening around her weapon, "Or need I remind you of your place, Keres?"

At this, Shizuru lost her temper. Something she rarely ever did. Stepping forward, eyes blazing, shadows expanding to wreath her form, Shizuru had bared her fangs, "You will show me respect, Lachesis! Do not mistake me for a lesser spirit!"

"You overstep your bounds again, Keres!" Haruka had spat, her own skin burgeoning with golden skeins, her gaze twin points of amethyst flame, "I will _not_ have you disrupting our affairs! Your duty -!"

"Damn your duty!" They were less than a stride apart now. Their fields of energy clashed, crackling ponderously with thunder, bolts of sickly coloured lightning darted between them and the room darkened, "I may not be able to kill you, but I will chain you up beside Prometheus and watch you scream for eternity!"

Haruka's weapon struck the ground, sending sparks reeling across the stone floor, "You -!"

Suddenly, Yukino spoke up, never looking away from her task, "Haruka." Her voice was soft, but its effect was immediate.

Breathing deeply to steady herself, Haruka stepped away. Their auras simmered then died and a very _loud_ silence filled the room.

Finally, Haruka spoke, calmer though a shiver of anger still shone in her words, "Things are in a very delicate balance right now, Shizuru. I can not afford to have you disrupting what we have so carefully laid in place."

"I have no interest in upsetting your affairs," She was hiding behind her composed mask once more, though beneath it all she boiled, "All I ask for is some information."

Mikoto lifted her blade and looked down its length, giving a small grunt of satisfaction before turning it over and starting on the other side. Both she and Yukino seemed not to be paying attention.

Haruka huffed and reluctantly conceded, "There is another Revenant."

In spite of herself, Shizuru's fists clenched, nostrils flaring, "Where?" Her voice had dropped to a husky whisper laced with blood-lust.

_I will tear this Revenant to pieces. I will feast upon their flesh. I will slaughter every man, woman and child who dares follow them. I will -_

"You are not required to know such information," was Haruka's bland reply.

An animalistic snarl ripped from Shizuru's throat, "Do you not remember what happened last time?"

"How could I forget?" Haruka's voice was dry, "Your precious Nina and Darvulia were who put us into this mess, after all."

_Nina._

"Do not speak her name!" she growled.

The Moirae couldn't resist goading her, "Which one?"

"Both." Shizuru could not refrain from hissing like a snake, possessed by her draconic rage, "They are dead to me."

"Is that so?"

Nina. Her darling Nina. She had very nearly gone mad when Nina died. In a way, she had never recovered from it. Her lover, still married while she, herself, had been a widow, was in the final term of her pregnancy when she had taken the fall from her horse that had claimed her life. Nina had always loved to ride, no matter how much Shizuru had discouraged it.

"_You are with child, Nina! You should not be galloping about the countryside!" She had insisted, pleading even._

"_Oh, nonsense!" Nina had scoffed, shaking back her mane of long, dark hair, haughty and dismissive as a queen, "You worry too much, Shizuru!" _

When it had happened, she was willing to do anything to bring her back. Even offer up her own body as a house for the shades of bloody death, the Keres. She had turned to the witch, Darvulia, begging for her assistance. Seeing this opportunity before her, Darvulia had taken the Countess of Hungary up on her request. What had taken place, however, was far from what Shizuru had originally bargained for.

Dancing with devils rarely turned out the way people wanted.

The last Revenant, Darvulia, had done as Shizuru asked, but with her own ulterior motives. Nina had lived again, but she, herself, had been transformed into a creature that was the stuff of nightmares.

And then, after all that, Nina had died a month later during childbirth.

_Stop._

_Don't think of it._

_Ne finge. Ne finge..._ (2)

Yukino wordlessly held out a thread to Mikoto and the girl cut it with a single smooth swipe of her sword. Somewhere in the world, a soul shrieked.

She needed to change the subject and she needed to change it now. Mnemosyne was a cruel goddess, indeed, ever haunting her, "How does Natsuki fit into all of this?"

At this, Haruka's gaze softened slightly. Confused, Shizuru arched a brow at her, "Well?"

Sighing, Haruka responded, "You may not like my answer."

Shizuru's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Don't say I didn't warn you..." the Moirae held up her hands defensively to ward off Shizuru's glare before continuing, "Ms. Kruger is the latest in a long line of women who have housed Hespera in their souls."

"Go on."

"Beginning with your Nina's daughter."

The information took a moment to seeping into her.

Natsuki...Natsuki was...? Nina's descendant?

_No._

_No, that can't be true._

Shizuru staggered back as though she had been dealt a wailing blow to the chest. Her eyes were wide, she stared at Haruka, "That...That can't..." her voice was a broken whisper.

Haruka just looked at her and said nothing.

"You...You're sure?" Shizuru's words held a pleading despair, as though begging for it to be simultaneously true and false, "You're absolutely sure?"

And with Haruka's small nod, everything changed.

That had been days ago. Presently, she was trying to soak all of her troubles away. To no avail it seemed.

_Natsuki..._

How could she look at the girl now? How could she even be in her presence? How, when all she saw was Nina? When all she wanted to do was gather the girl into her arms and sully her perfect body with unseemly passions?

She clenched her hands beneath the water which was starting to cool. She would have to get out soon. She didn't want to. Getting out of the bath would mean that she would have to face Natsuki. They were supposed to be meeting again for another lesson in a few hours.

_I can't..._

Red eyes stared up at the ceiling, watching the steam billow and twist.

_I can't even look at her. If I do...If I...I can't..._

_Or I will be lost._

* * *

**(1) apples: if y'alls can recall, Natsuki is one of the Hesperides, guardians of the tree that bears golden apples. I just thought it would be a fun little twist to have her crave apples all the time. Myth tells us that even the Hesperides couldn't resist eating the apples from time to time, which was why the dragon, Ladon, was also used to ward off any from eating them, a guardian for the guardians one might say. **

**(2) Ne finge: Latin. "Do not think it." This is actually a quote from the **_**Aeneid**_**, Book IV. When Dido confronts Aeneas, he gives a little speech to try to dissuade her impassioned confrontation and says. The grammar is technically incorrect, as an imperative would normally be made with a form of Noli / Nolite with an infinitive, rather than an imperative form with a negative. But, it's Vergil. You don't argue with Vergil. (Unless you're going to be writing an extensive commentary of his work). **


	22. Chapter 22

**Greetings, mortals and immortals, amicae and otherwise!**

**I really do spoil y'alls, don't I? Updating for the third time this week? And my updates are becoming increasingly longer, I hope you've noticed! Fie to he who thinks I read not mine reviews! Fie!**

**Au contraire...**

**Specifically and most recently, I can recall somebody pointing out that every so often, a smattering of spelling / grammatical mistakes appears in my work. 'Tis true. It is partly due to the fact that I have no beta, but more importantly it is due to the very manner in which I write. You see, I think in terms of scenes. My enhanced imagination, fueled by chemicals yet unknown, flashes images and scenes and I type them up as fast as my poor little fingers are able to fly across the keyboard. That also means that I jump around when I write; I'll often stop mid-sentence to go scrawl a quick note to myself, or a clever turn of phrase I think would be best for later, or earlier, then return. So, yes. Such propensities are as rich soil to the wild seeds of grammatical error, one might say. I apologise.**

**Furthermore, I would like to apologise for the note at the end of this chapter. It's...hmm...**_**Vehement**_**. I often find myself far too attached to detail. That, and I'm a bit of a literary snob. I admit it. Without reservation. It's a pet-peeve of mine when people mess up historical, linguistic and literary facts. For example: one of my philosophy professors in Freshman year of college said in class, "The term 'ad baculum' comes from the Greek word 'Bacchus', who was the Roman God of War."**

**Needless to say, I, sitting in the back of the class, almost fell from my chair and died of a stroke. And apoplexy. At the same time.**

**I still cringe when I think of that most dark and dismal time...*shudders***  
**But enough of that! On with the show!**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

Shizuru had to fight the tremble in her hands as she heard the shy knock on her door. Pausing to take a deep, steadying breath, she called out, "Come in." She didn't know how her voice could sound so calm, so sure when inside her entrails twisted and clenched.

She was just finishing tying the creamy sash around her hips, dressed in her ruby-red chiton. She ran her fingers over the fine material, smoothing any wrinkles, and tucked the knot beneath its own heavy folds so that it hid from view and hugged her hips, accentuating their curves. She had contemplated getting other forms of attire, and had indeed done so, but her red chiton had become something of a trademark image for her in Parliament. It was, after all, what she had worn when she had overtaken House Árpádok. It was simplistic enough to be comfortable, but flowed in such an elegant way, gathering and swirling about her legs when she strode the halls, flocks of subjects bowing before her as she passed and ascended the throne to which she had been born.

When she was still a Countess of her home country, Šizsur Erzsébet Báthory Violàsz of Ecsed had been richer and owned more land than the King of Hungary. (1) Over time, she had acquired titles from other countries as well, but that was after she was supposed to have "died". Shizuru had staged her own death more times than she could count. At first, she thought it was a most amusing exercise to attend her own funerals, dressing in full mourning so that nobody could see her face and watch the people who crowded around her grave. After the fourth or fifth time, however, it had lost its appeal. She had moved from Hungary to Northern Italy, then moved on to France for a good century or so. She had greatly enjoyed France. the French had something so distinct about their culture, something she could never quite put her finger on. They never apologised for what they were.

They were just so..._French._ And she loved it.

After that she had lived in Greece. She had hated Greece. Nothing ever happened there. The entire time, she had felt so removed from the rest of the world. It had come as a bit of a surprise to her that she was a social creature. She had spent so many years, so many, hiding her true nature from those around her, that she had rather fancied herself a secretive person, a shadow lurking in the footsteps of others, seen but never noticed. Not long after she had returned to Austria, where Nina was from, and finally found her way back to Hungary. It had changed, but she had not had any difficult finding her place among its ranks once more. Her people were still _her_people, and she found comfort in their company no matter how many centuries passed.

That was when she had grown tired of this earth and begged Haruka to take her life. The Moirae had refused, claiming that she could not.

Shizuru would never forgive her for that.

She had wanted to die. She had wanted to die so badly. Life was exhausting. Life was cruel. She had not asked for this longevity. She had not asked for eternal life. She had not asked for this power. She had not asked for this curse.

She had only asked for Nina.

Even that, she had been denied.

_And now the Fates are laughing at me in all my misery._ _O, me miseram!_

The door opened and in stepped Natsuki.

"Hey, Shizuru."

_Ah, that voice..._

"_Shizuru..." Nina purred in her ear, "Shizuru, I love you."_

_Stop that!_she scolded herself.

Turning around, she forced herself to smile and greet the girl, never looking directly at her, "Good evening, Natsuki. I hope you've had a lovely day." A hint of a question lingered at the end of her last sentence.

"Yea..." Natuski muttered, closing the door behind her and crossing to the bed.

Shizuru watched her from the corner of her eye, focusing in on the space just behind her so as not to actually look at her but so that she could still monitor her actions. It was true that they had had lessons while sitting on the bed in the past - Shizuru's breath caught at the thought of having a very different kind of 'lesson' with Natsuki in her bed - but did the girl have to go straight for it? Did the girl _want_ to tempt her?

_Wait...Does she?_

Shizuru vehemently cursed herself in her own tongue.

_No. NO. You will not -! You must not -!_

Natsuki was sitting on the bed now, regarding her with questioning green eyes, a tiny frown marring her porcelain brow, "Well...What are we doing today?"

_What indeed, my Natsuki._

Shizuru frowned. "My"? Where on earth had that come from?

She could make a very educated guess. And she probably wouldn't be far off.

_Damn you, Šizsur!_her inner voice was almost weeping. She didn't know if she could do this.

Somehow, her voice came out, completely unaffected by the seething ruin within her, "We are going to explore the realm of projection and teleportation, Natsuki."

She couldn't stop herself from saying the girl's name. She loved the way it felt on her tongue. She wanted to know if other parts of Natsuki would feel so good on her tongue, as well...

"Teleportation?" Natsuki asked with no small amount of incredulity and excitement, "You mean, like, appearing on the other side of London?"

A small, lop-sided grin creased Shizuru's cheek, "Oh, I think you and I together can go much farther than the lee side of London." She refrained from moving closer to the bed; she couldn't trust herself anywhere near there with Natuski sitting on it, "But we really should start with projection -"

Natsuki interrupted her, eyes shining, "Oh! Come on, Shizuru! Can't we do teleportation first?"

Shizuru blinked, "Well..." she considered her options.

The Keres and Hespera may have been completely disparate entities, but their powers and general make-up were essentially the same. In fact, they were basically two sides of the same coin. If myth held any truth, then the Keres and Hesperides were sisters, descendants of Nyx, the Goddess of Night, Firstborn of Chaos. Therefore, when Shizuru instructed Natsuki, she based her lessons off of her own experiences. True, she had teleported to the other side of her castle without realising it, simply by willing it to be, but that had been after she was far more comfortable with her powers than Natsuki was. Then again, she had been forcibly invaded by the foreign spirits that were the Keres, whereas Natsuki had been born with Hespera. Perhaps her situation was different...

"I suppose we could..."

"Yes!" Natsuki pumped a fist into the air, leaping to her feet and crossing the room to stand before Shizuru, face beaming, "Alright! What do I do?"

Shizuru definitely had not planned this as well as she originally thought. She had been hoping to do this portion later, so that she could acclimate to Natsuki's presence before having to touch her.

_I...I can touch her, now..._

Discreetly, wiping her sweaty palms on her dress, Shizuru held out her hands, palms up, "P-Put your hands in mine and concentrate on your center, just like I taught you before." She prayed to Mother Nyx that Natsuki hadn't noticed the slight stumbling in her speech.

Apparently, the girl was as blissfully oblivious as she had thought. She did as Shizuru commanded without hesitation, eyes closing, breathing deeply. Shizuru stared down at their hands, their skin only grazing, that indiscernible shiver still apparent in her own. Oh, how she wanted to grab the girl's slender wrists and pull her forward! This was different than her desire for the girl before. Before, it had been purely a hunt. A most enjoyable hunt, she might add, but a hunt nonetheless. She had enjoyed teasing Natsuki, watching the blushes blossom across her cheeks, savouring the heat of her in the off chance that she would finally be able to taste her. She still wanted the girl's blood, but...

But now...Now, everything had changed.

"Think of a remote place," Shizuru began, her own eyes closing, words soft and soothing in order to relax Natsuki and make the process easier for her. Their auras extended, black and white between them, "A place that nobody else would ever know. A place familiar to you. You have to have been there before," her voice was suddenly stern, "Or at least seen it from afar. Never imagine a place that you have never been to before. Let it float to the fore of your mind...Let it consume your thoughts...Slip into the image...Just as though you are walking down an avenue, not truly thinking of where you are going...Letting your legs carry you forward...And then..."

A breeze. It tickled her skin.

Opening her eyes, Shizuru looked around them.

They stood upon a remote cliff. She had no idea where they were. Perhaps Ireland? It resembled the Cliffs of Moher. It might have been the Cliffs of Moher, for all she knew. The ocean below them raged, ravaged the steep cliffs with waves of silver gray. They stood on a jutting peninsula of stone, the wind buffeting their figures. Beyond, the cliffs staggered, walls of brown and gray stone mossed over with brilliant green grass, erected against the tempests of the stormy sea like bulwarks shielding the land. Above, the sky slowly darkened from a pale blue to the peach and orange hues of the oncoming sunset.

Natsuki was inspecting their surroundings with absolute joy painted across her features, giddy, their hands still connected ever so lightly.

_Don't look at her_, a part of her, the infuriatingly rational part, urged, _Don't. You can't...You shouldn't..._

Just one look. Couldn't she spare just one look?

_I shan't do anything. I promise I shan't. I just...I just want..._

_Her. I want her._

_Just one look? Oh, Nyx! Please, just one!_

Chin down, Shizuru glanced to the side from beneath lowered lashes.

_Eros, have mercy..._

The girl just had to stand there and Shizuru's mouth went dry.

Her green eyes perfectly matched the surrounding countryside, both emerald jewels glimmering with the heart of the sea. A small smile adorned her face, so beautiful it made Shizuru's chest ache. Natsuki belonged here. She was lit up with the light of the sunset reflecting off the waves, infused with their reddish tint, unapproachable as the moon, cold as the promise of a lavender night, sweeping in from the West. The sun blazed as a fire on Natsuki's skin, staining the sleek line of her porcelain cheeks a ruddy hue, making her eyes burn so deeply, turned almost a clear gold from Shizuru's perspective, secretly admiring her profile, stealing her glances like a thief in the night. The arch of the sky directly above them slowly turned a deep lilac, and beyond the stars made their first shining appearance.

Natsuki belonged here.

She had said it in her mind before, but it could bear reiteration.

These cliffs, this sunset, this sea. This was Hespera. This was Natsuki.

"It's beautiful..." the girl breathed.

Before she could stop herself, before she could guard her cursed tongue, Shizuru replied, breathless, "Yes..."

Slowly, Natsuki's head began to turn.

Terrified, Shizuru tried to tear her gaze away but was unable to. She was riveted in place.

She couldn't-

She shouldn't-

And then...then she was truly lost.

* * *

Natsuki glanced over at Shizuru and saw that she was not looking at the magnificent view, but at her. They were standing very closely together atop the crag, the only flat piece of cliff a mere meter across, even less. The rest was a sheer, rocky drop to the sea below, heaving up great sheets of white foam and spray. The hem of Shizuru's red dress stirred but lightly in the strong gale, brushing Natsuki's legs. Natsuki dimly realized that her own hair, even more darkly lustrous in her heightened state, reacted to the environment in a similar manner, only drifting across her shoulders and brow in lazy strands quite unaffected by the whistling wind.

As she turned to study Shizuru rather than the surrounding landscape, Natsuki found herself becoming less and less aware of anything _but_ Shizuru. Perhaps it had something to do with her newly heightened senses, or perhaps it was the fresh exhilaration of power thrumming within her, but the Ker seemed somehow less threatening. She knew that Shizuru was powerful and far more experienced, but there was now a curious sensation she had never felt before around her: security. Once Awakened, any threat Shizuru had previously posed vanished instantly. She could no more harm Natsuki than Natsuki could harm her. They were two immortals, completely antipodean. Even their colouring was opposing: Natsuki with her straight black hair, blazing green eyes and white aura, Shizuru with her waves of honeyed blonde locks, smouldering crimson gaze and an aura steeped in ink and pitch. One was shadow and flame, blood and lust, while the other was sunlight and forests, earth and life.

And yet...

Natsuki could not look away. The painfully desirous expression in those scarlet eyes lit a fire beneath her skin. Had Shizuru always regarded her with such eyes? The ensuing relaxation, the safety and comfort brought on by her transformation had allowed room for another sensation to fully burgeon in Natsuki's mind. It was a type of longing. An ache that spread through her bones, seeped into every nerve. Before, she could not have accepted it, but now...Now she felt she was no longer able to keep it at bay for another moment. Repression makes the mind fester faster.

A stray lock of hair wafted in front of Shizuru's face, a strand of sun-filtered molasses, and before she could restrain herself, Natsuki reached out and brushed it aside. It seemed like it had been so long since they had last touched. The tips of her fingers grazed Shizuru's ear as she tucked it behind and the warm feel of the Ker's skin made Natsuki pause. She could not feel the briskness of the air around them, nor the stiff spray of the ocean's chill. Yet Shizuru radiated heat and she could feel it unlike anything else. She allowed her hand to linger there, palm cupping the smooth roundness of Shizuru's cheek, fingers at her jaw and ear, thumb caressing the silky down, a shimmer of gold, at her temple. Shizuru made no movement, merely flicked her gaze across Natsuki's features. Natsuki found herself doing the same until her eyes finally settled, fixed greedily, upon Shizuru's mouth.

Had she never truly taken the time to _look_ at Shizuru? To admire her features? Something told her that, yes, of course she had. But that had been then and this was now. And now...now she was so close. She could see every line, every smooth curve, every colour and texture. The smell of Shizuru pervaded her senses, an indescribable scent by all accounts; it was something like...like black teas, an herb garden at dusk, gathering dew, the ground carrying a wafting metallic undertone from the many iron blades that had tilled it earlier in the day. Yet even that was not enough to fully describe it. It was that and so much more.

Natsuki's body seemed to sway forward in spite of herself, and she only realized it had happened when their swirling fields of energy meshed. Unlike the ponderous crackling of lightning that had been produced when Shizuru and the Moirae, Haruka, had clashed, here was procured whorls of dove-gray, feather-light, that quickened their swirling pace like the fluttering wings of new-born birds. It was a mark of both their acceptance and a promise. To Natsuki, stepping into Shizuru's aura was as soothing as slipping into a freshly drawn bath after trudging home in slanting sleet.

Shizuru's lips were slightly parted as though in anticipation and so, she realized were her own. Smooth trembling hands gently grasped Natsuki's waist when she hesitated, resisting for a fleeting moment of sanity the magnetic tug of the other, and before her mind could rethink what on earth she was doing, Shizuru pulled her forward with a hungry, hollow groan.

Warmth.

That was the first sensation. A slow, spreading warmth that radiated from Shizuru and into herself. She had almost forgotten what warmth felt like, for she spent so much time since her Awakening feeling nothing but the cool indifference of her body towards external weather. Yet the warmth emanating from Shizuru filled her, traveling from the tender hands that held her, the mouth that met her own and flowing into herself. She wanted more of that warmth. She wanted that warmth to burn like the sun for years innumerable. She wanted that warmth to be hers and hers alone.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, heads slightly tilted, lips simply touching lightly. Shizuru's bangs tickled her forehead and she felt that same fringe brush against her hand, so light, so soft. Like a strand of silk, it trailed across the backs of her fingers, urging her to slide the hand at Shizuru's cheek into full locks of dark honey. The waves of Shizuru's hair spilled through her fingers. In an attempt to capture those golden tides, she gripped them in a fist, delighting in the feel of their fluid fullness in her palm.

Shizuru responded to her motion, the first break in their stillness, by slowly sliding her arms from their position at Natsuki's waist and using her hands to caress the girl's back. With feather-light touches she grazed the pads of her fingers along Natsuki's spine, drifting across her shoulder-blades, memorising the many stress points and knotted muscles and quivering flesh that met her touch. When a thumb skimmed over a sensitive region on her lower right back, Natsuki could not hold back a small gasp, just a tiny intake of air through her nose. Pausing for a moment to enjoy the feel of Natsuki's body tensing against hers, Shizuru began to daintily circle that spot with her left hand, allowing her digits to linger there teasingly.

Of its own accord, Natsuki's other arm rose and wrapped around Shizuru's neck, pulling her in closer. She only nuzzled the woman gingerly, but the effect was undeniable. The hands at her back clenched suddenly and those velveteen lips moved against hers, increasing the pressure between them so that she could feel the silken pommel that was Shizuru's cheek touching, lightly yielding on her own. Meekly, Natsuki returned the gesture, feeling the soft yet quickened wisps of air sweeping across her face as Shizuru breathed through her nose. When Natsuki leaned further into the embrace, however, and her hips brushed against the other's, the kiss changed.

Shizuru's entire body twitched and she drew a deep, ragged breath as though trying and failing to contain herself, to retain her composure. One of her hands slid rapidly down to the small of Natsuki's back and pushed in, forcing the lower half of Natsuki's body to press fully against her. At the sensation of the woman's supple curves coming into lavish contact with her own, Natsuki's mouth opened involuntarily and a short, muffled whimper escaped. Shizuru slanted her head further, red eyes heavily lidded, and slipped her tongue into the newly allotted space.

Now, it was not longer a warmth. Now, it was a heat. It were as though a sweltering furnace had just dropped its fire-seared grate with a great clang and, in a great surge of molten ardor, its contents surged forth. This febrile calidity stormed through her, plunged into the pit of her stomach and settled somewhere deep past her navel. It flooded her, ignited her, a match thrown upon bone-dry tinder, sweeping her along in the intensity of its fervour just as Shizuru's tongue swept across her own. Natsuki could no more restrain the low moan that welled up inside of her throat than she could restrain the torrid wave of desire that flushed through her.

And it _was_ desire. She could name it now. It deserved a name, a name she no longer feared or rejected.

Gentle, still so endearingly gentle, so insufferably gentle, Shizuru slowed the kiss and pulled away. Natsuki followed her for a few centimeters, loath to end the contact. Emerald eyes gazed hazily at Shizuru and Natsuki was not aware that her mouth still hung slightly open, trembling from the recent episode. Shizuru's cheeks were tinged a soft pink, she was panting.

Natsuki had never seen her look so undone than in that moment, so open. Gone was the teasing facade, the smiling mask that Shizuru donned and had donned for most of her life, and all that was left was malleable and oh so fragile, the husks of the other personae lying about her, disheveled. The expression on her face was one Natsuki had never thought she'd see in all her years of living: wonderment and tenderness streaked with fear.

It was that fear, so blatant, in Shizuru's eyes that made the last of Natsuki's restraints crumble away, all her walls so like the razed ruins of Carthage while in her arms trembled the Tyrian queen, the fair and fiery Elissa, undone by her own pious hand. (1) Natsuki reached out and merely held the quaking woman to her in a simple embrace. Shizuru clutched at her back for all she was worth, reigning in her unbridled passions that threatened to overcome her.

The sea crashed against the rocks below, frenzied, and in the heavens above, a storm gathered.

* * *

**(1): This is actually true. Erzsebet Bathory was richer and owned more land than the King of Hungary, King Matthias II. It's no wonder that he and all the other nobles all feared her. That woman had more power than any other person in the entire country. She was probably just as rich as the King of Austria, her neighboring country with which her own country had strong ties with. The political influence she had must have been absolutely astounding. Appalling, actually. Not to mention the fact that Hungary in her time (1600s) was quite an influential country, by no means similar to the small, rather impotent state it is today. For centuries, Hungary was a bulwark against the east and the Ottomans and I imagine Erzsi Bathory would have had quite a lot of pull in international affairs. Had I, myself, been the King, I would've had her and her family assassinated and made sure that her lands and wealth went to the state, namely me. What? Don't look at me like that! I'm Machiavellian in nature and I**_**will not**_**, I repeat,**_**will not**_**apoligise for that.**

**(2): Ah, I really did throw you a little fuster-cluck of an allusion there, didn't I? My apologies. Carthage was a great city in the Mediterranean that eventually fell to Rome in the Punic Wars, of which there were three. Carthage's most famous general is the renowned Hannibal Barca, son of Hamilcar. (A famous Latin phrase is "Hannibal ad portas", which means "Hannibal is at the gates": an expression Romans would tell misbehaving children to frighten them). The mythological Carthage is best known through Vergil's**_**Aeneid**_**. If you have not read the**_**Aeneid**_**, then I hereby deliver a cyber-smack right across your face. Go. Read it.**_**NOW**_**. It's better in Latin, but then again, I'm a purist, as y'all know. If you're proficient enough in English, then I recommend the Fagles translation or the Sarah Ruden translation. Both are excellent, though Robert Fagles does have a special place in my heart.**

**In the**_**Aeneid**_**, Dido, Queen of Carthage, was often referred to as "Tyrian Dido" or "Phoenician Dido" or even on one or two occasions, "Elissa". (The reason for Vergil's discrepancy lies in the fact that mythological figures often have different names such as "Hercules / Herakles / Alcides"). As for my diction concerning the word "pious" that is a reference (a bit of a snide one, actually) to Aeneas, who was so often described with the words "SUM PIUS AENEAS" ("I am pious Aeneas") in the**_**Aeneid**_**that I and Latin students everywhere want to throttle him whenever we see that beshrewn phrase.**

**Also, if the first thing you thought of when I said 'Vergil' was a silver-haired, half-demon prat from Devil May Cry, then shut off your bloody console and read a book. He's only one of the most influential writers of Western Civilisation, a cornerstone of literature and poetry. I don't think many of you realise how incredibly eminent this man was and still is. To this day, the**_**Aeneid**_**is one of the most read pieces of literature throughout all Western history. It's second only to the Bible. That's a fact there, folks. Stone cold**_**fact**_**. **

**Vergil was a genius. That's right. I said it.**_**Genius**_**. His epic Latin poem, the**_**Aeneid**_**, has only truly gone through two unpopular phases in the two-thousand plus years of its publication. (It was written before the Bible's New Testament, by the way). The first recession was sometime during the first century AD when Roman intellectual hipsters claimed that while Vergil was nice and all, Ennius was where it was at. That's kind of like saying, "Well, that Bill-the-Bard-Shakespeare fellow is lovely and all but Chaucer really is something else entirely!" Or perhaps, "Meat is alright, but I think I'd prefer to consume tofu-flavoured crisps for the remainder of my miserable existence." (Not that I have anything against vegetarians, mind you). The second recession of Vergil was during the Romantic period of Europe. The protagonist of his epic poem, Aeneas, apparently just wasn't glamorous enough for the likes of Keats and Shelley, whereas Achilles and Odysseus were strutting their stuff on the street-corner, flashing their rouged thighs from beneath their gaudy, neon skirts. Later on at the very advent of the 20th century, I imagine there must have been some resentment towards the god-like rigours of the "Vergil Gospel" as I lovingly refer to it, because all of a sudden art went through a very dramatic change that has persisted unto the present date, wherein I can write on a piece of tissue-paper "Bugger off, you buggedy bug-bug, or I'll bugger you in your buggedy bum-bum" slap some scansion over the top and call it poetry. (Thanks for nothing, Tristan Tzara...) In fact, most people these days seem to think that anything that rhymes is poetry. Rhyming is the lowest of the low. It really is. Writing in meter, on the other hand, is far more difficult. Try writing something in dactylic hexameter or hendecasyllabics and we'll talk.**

***smooths creases of suit jacket and straightens tie, breathing heavily from the impassioned rant above***

**Ok. I'm done. Sorry about that...**


	23. Chapter 23

**Such spoiled readers! I feel like an overly-doting aunt bringing caffeinated sweets for my sister's kids because I know that **_**I'm**_** certainly not the one who has to struggle to get them to go to bed later on. *evil laugh***

**In response to Jericho: Ahaha! O, miser Catulle! You know, I have a soft spot for Catullus. He can be so delightfully Callimachean with his gem-like, Hellenistic poems. Such as Catullus 85. And then there's the fact that the gentility of some of his poetry is offset by the rough and tumble pieces like Catullus 16, which you quoted in your review. But it's really his 51st poem that gets me every time, "Ille mi par esse deo videtur / Ille, si fas est, superare divos / Qui sedens adversus identidem te / Spectat et audit / Dulce ridentem..."**

**Ah...Bellissima. Vere Bellissima. **

**Then again, that could just have something to do with my absolute reverence towards Sappho. Tenth muse, indeed! One of the few things Plato and I agree upon...**

**He may not have been as influential nor as well-renowned as, say, Horace, but Catullus has a certain appeal...He was a bit of a poetic-pioneer for he experimented greatly with lyric meter that others like Horace would take later and perfect.**

**That aside, as promised I have some more PLOT for y'all to read! YAY! :D**

**Fear not, I shall return to the ShizNat action soon enough. I have some rather naughty things planned for them as the story progresses...mmmMMmmm...As Shakespeare said in **_**Hamlet**_**, "That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs."**

**But that means there must be a **_**story**_** at all. And so we reach this infuriating road-block once again, wherein I cram as much content down your throats before we get to the good stuff. **

**Hey, wait...Plot can be considered "good stuff" too, can't it? CAN'T IT?**

**Fine. Be that way. *crosses arms and pouts***

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

The sound of screams grew louder as Reito Kanzaki, the Black Prince, descended deeper into the bowels of Maria Graceburt's estate. The Tuscan-style villa was a sprawling labyrinthine snake of a building. Above, it seemed like a rather unprepossessing building: thin, yet tall, gripped with ivy and wisteria. From an outsider's perspective, its one saving grace would be the view from the balcony, which Reito himself had enjoyed many times in the past, a view of the timeless city of Rome spread before the eye in all its historic glory. On the inside, however, the building was something else entirely. Hallways careened, staggering drunkenly, far below the streets, widening to broad ballrooms, tapering off to narrow corridors, halting impostors with gates to the dripping dungeons.

It was through one of these gates that Reito passed. His footsteps were silent and his strides were filled with a panther-like grace, dangerously graceful. His normally black eyes now burned a fierce red through the gloom. Here, the narrow hallways were unadorned, no electricity, no torches. Other areas of the villa were well lit, but that was not needed here. Here, the prisoners of Maria Graceburt lived in the absolute darkness that only the earth could grant.

Reito's eyes flared brighter. The stench of blood and death was strong here. It made his mouth water.

The shrieks rose to a wailing crescendo as Reito approached a door of iron, heavily oxidised so that the rust ate away at its edges, leaving jagged, gaping holes in some areas. Lighter scars could be seen on the stone floor around it, scrapes from when the door was continually opened and closed. It bore no bars, no window, nor any sign of a device with which to open it. Still, that did not faze Reito in the slightest. Reaching out, he dug his fingers into the left side of the door. The iron crumpled beneath his hands with a squealing groan and he ripped it from its place in the wall, rocky debris falling all around him, dust marring his black leather outfit. Tossing the door aside like it was a piece of paper, Reito dusted off his red silk doublet, straightening his white cravat as he strode into the dungeon.

In the very center of the room stood the mistress of the house, herself. Maria was wielding a barbed whip, slashing at a man strung up by his ankles. Blood danced in the air, streaming ribbons of it, splashing across Maria's front, decorating the stone floor. She was painted from the crown of her head down to her bare feet in slashes of crimson, her elegant gray dress soaked in the stuff, her hair darkened in several places, matted into a congealed red mass. Other prisoners crowded the walls, cowering, their continuous howls reverberating off the walls to create a dissonant, eldritch chorus.

Maria had fed recently. He could tell. Whenever Maria fed she reverted back to a young state, hair like spun gold, skin smooth and pale, her large eyes a clear green. Now, her eyes burned scarlet with her fury as she lashed out again and again, a grim smile across her blood-splattered features. Reito had no idea how or why she changed after feeding. Maria, herself, had certainly never told him, and the only other person who knew was Viola.

Somehow, Reito had a feeling Viola would be unwilling to tell him as well.

"So this is where you've been these past few days," Reito murmured, arms crossed across his chest, head tilted, surveying the scene with a bored expression on his face.

Panting, Maria paused to look over her shoulder, a wide streak of blood smeared across her right cheek and more of it dotting across the ridge of her nose. Disappointment at having been interrupted flashed across her face and she brought the clawed end of the whip down harshly one last time before finally turning. The smile was gone now and in its place was a frigid mask that could not quite conceal her burning rage, "Forgive me, Reito," she coiled the whip around her hand with an expert flick of her wrist, "I was indulging in a bit of...leisure time."

The screams had stopped as soon as Maria had turned and instead a ringing silence filled the cavernous room. None of the prisoners even wept; they had been trained well, it seemed.

"Of course," his face gave away nothing, but the tone of his voice was too dry.

Maria's eyes narrowed and she snapped at the prisoners, "Who told you to stop?"

A few whimpers answered, followed by the screams.

The smallest of frowns adorned Reito's brow, "Maria, we need to plan our next move."

"Plan?" she barked out the word with a hard laugh, "What plan? Oh, here's a nice plan for you: Viola will come here and she will kill us. How does that sound?"

"Rather poor, actually," he replied wryly.

The coils of the whip slapped against the stone floor as she released them from her hand, gripping the worn handle tight, knuckles whitening, "The gall of you Székelys never ceases to amaze me! You think this is some sort of game?" she hissed, taking a step toward him, gaze luminous through the darkness.

"Only if it's a game that I can win."

"You can not win _this_ game, Reito," Maria's voice may have been soft, but it cut through the wails of the prisoners like a knife, "Viola will crush you."

"Are you so sure about that?"

She paused. Her shoulders straightened and her expression changed from anger, to incredulity, to sly interest, "Unless...you know something?"

"Hmm..." he tilted his head, feigning deep thoughts, "It's not so much about knowledge as it is about having the right _pieces_."

The shrieks of the prisoners droned on in their infernal song.

"Does this piece have a name?"

"Indeed it does," Reito's fangs gleamed in a deadly smile, "Mai Tokiha."

* * *

Mai drew the Glock G22 at her hip, raising it swiftly into the air and aiming down its short barrel, "Stop right there!" Her voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

She and Shiho stood together at the end of the hallway, looking at a scene they had both been fearing would occur for days now.

A group of vampires and a group of humans were crowding the hall, practically at each other's throats. Mai and Shiho had arrived just at the right time. No blood had been spilled.

Yet.

At the sound of Mai's voice, most backed away from one another, slowly, regretfully, as though they'd much rather commence with those fanciful pictures they had been imagining for days now, comprised mainly of dismembering one another. Two of the participants, however, remained locked in a staring contest at the very centre of the hall, glaring. Mai did not recognize the vampire but she groaned when she saw who the human was.

Nao.

_Why does she always have to stir up trouble?_

The Company Operative was wearing her usual black suit, though the coat had been discarded, revealing a gray, button-down shirt and a loose green tie bearing a black sun-burst. Her sleeves were rolled up her forearms. When Mai saw that she had to stop herself from cursing aloud. Nao really meant business here if her sleeves had been rolled up. It could only mean one thing: she was just about ready to truncate the sorry bastard leering down at her in a moment's notice.

"Nao!" Mai barked, striding quickly down the hall towards them, followed closely by Shiho, "If you so much as twitch your pinky, so help me God, I will burn down every tobacco shop from here to Milan!"

"Fuck off, Tokiha!" Nao snarled, not breaking eye contact with the vampire, "This Fang here is about to become my bitch!"

The vampire in question, a tall, slender man, handsome but for his large, hooked nose, bared his fangs and took a step forward. Before Nao could even move, however, one of the Cynthian soldiers behind her had taken out his handgun and fired at her oncoming attacker.

"No!" Mai yelled, turning to the soldier who had fired and disarming him in a matter of seconds. She turned to see what had become of the vampire - hoping that he was a high enough rank to be able to resist the UV bullet - and blinked.

Faster than the mortal eye could detect, Shiho had put herself between the soldier and the vampire, taking the UV round in the chest. Mai had expected to see a pile of ash when she turned, but Shiho just clutched at the wound with a grimace of discomfort.

Mai rushed over to her, reaching out to pull back the girl's hand and see what sort of damage had been done, "Are you alright?"

But Shiho shrugged off her hands, discreetly directing a warning glare at the District Officer. She backed away, focusing her attention instead upon Nao and her fellow Artemisians.

"What the hell happened?" She barked at them, "And why the _fuck_ haven't saluted your commanding officer?"

Immediately, the soldiers all snapped to attention and gave her crisp salutes. All except Nao, of course, who was grumbling oaths and busying herself with rolling down her sleeves. She hadn't expected Nao to salute, as the Operative never did so.

"I think I'd like to know that myself," Shiho asked, eyes sweeping the group of vampires. They all shifted uncomfortably beneath the scrutiny of her gaze, "Elliot?" The vampire that was supposed to have been shot remained silent, still eyeing Nao.

The fiery Operative began, jerking a thumb at Elliot while struggling with buttons at her sleeves that covered her wrists, "This asshole decided that I wasn't showing him 'the proper respect'."

"That's a lie!" Elliot growled, "I was walking to my quarters when _she_," he spat out the word 'she' and looked Nao up and down, "blew smoke in my face."

Mai arched an eyebrow at Nao.

Nao shrugged, bending down to pick up her jacket from the floor and casually brushing it off, "I don't control drafts."

Mai could have strangled her.

"She should be punished for her disrespect!" Elliot's vehement words incited a few murmurs from the small crowd of vampires behind him, some nodding their heads. In turn, the Cynthian soldiers tensed and their faces darkened though they dared not move with Mai staring them down.

"Elliot," Shiho interrupted smoothly, fingering the tear in her black Victorian dress with its pink frills, obviously more vexed about the damage done to her gown than to herself, "You were out of line."

"How can you side with these uncivilised _Blood-Bags?_" the vampire, Elliot, snarled at Shiho, gesturing towards the soldiers as he said the last word.

_Blood-Bags? _Mai thought with disgust.

When Shiho answered her voice was soft, menacing, yet she was not even looking at him, "I do as my Mistress commands. More importantly, why are you speaking to me as though we are equals?"

"But -!"

With a snarl, Shiho whirled around and backhanded him across the face. The force of her blow shattered his right cheeks, dislocating his jaw, and he fell to the floor coughing and spitting out teeth. Shiho loomed over him, eyes still glinting amber, "Ser Elliot Duchamp," she began, growling fiercely, "You may be a noble of the esteemed House Árpádok, but if you _ever_ speak to me in that manner again I will see to your death myself!" Shiho turned from him, the action almost insultingly dismissive, "And rest assured, Mistress Viola will know of what happened here today."

At this, he paled. The other vampires around him took nervous steps away, giving him a wide berth, as though being near him would also incriminate them.

Mai just stared at her.

_Christ..._

"I suggest you all leave," Shiho hissed at them, "_Now!_"

Within seconds, they had all vanished. Even Elliot had staggered to his feet and disappeared, tail between his legs.

Giving her own men a good, last glower, Mai barked, "Dismissed!"

Nao left with the rest, already lighting another cigarette as she stalked off, her black coat tossed over one shoulder.

For a few awkward moments, Mai and Shiho, alone in the hall, did not speak to one another. Finally, Mai sighed and gave in, "Here, let me see your wound."

Shiho jerked away, eyes narrowed, "Don't touch me."

Taken aback, Mai felt the anger and frustration she had been suppressing for days boiling up inside of her, "Don't be ridiculous!" she snapped.

Instead, Shiho retorted sharply, reacting in a similar manner, "Ridiculous? This entire situation is ridiculous! You people are impossible! I don't even know why I suggested it anymore!"

Mai rounded on her partner, "You _know_ why we're here! We need to work together! Or did you not hear your orders?"

"Do you know how strange it is to even be _talking_ to you? Let alone _working_ with you?" Shiho hissed, eyes blazing red from their natural amber, "It's like having a conversation with a roasted chicken on your dinner table! Preposterous!"

"You think that I _like_ working with you?" Mai snarled, hands clenching into fists, gloves creaking from the strain around her knuckles, "You think that I _like_ this situation any more than you do? Every time I see you, I want to put a bullet in your thick skull!"

The vampire's pixie face twisted into a snarl, "I'm glad the feeling is mutual. I wouldn't want you actually getting attached to me."

Mai choked on the words as though they left a bad taste in her mouth, "_Attached?_ Why, you -!" Her fingers twitched and she found that her hand was drifting towards her holster. Shiho, herself, had crooked her hands into claws as though planning to swipe Mai's head right from her shoulders.

"My, my..." A voice issued from right behind them, cool and calm, "What do we have here?"

Shiho and Mai froze and hastily stepped away from one another. Shizuru Viola stood directly beside them accompanied by none other than Midori Sugiura. Viola had a small smile on her face and though her general bearing was pleasant and collected, the smile had a bit too much edge to it. Similarly, Midori's olive green eyes glinted dangerously and her arms were crossed before her chest. Shizuru looked just as she always did in her ruby-red dress, elegant and commanding, but Midori had donned her white suit, cleaned of all bloodstains, looking especially professional and foreboding.

Viola cocked her head and continued as though speaking to Midori, "Surely, Mai and Shiho had no intention of indulging in a _dispute_?" Her smile widened as the two in question looked anywhere than at each other, Mai scratching the back of her head and Shiho discreetly straightening imaginary wrinkles from her gown.

"Of course not," Midori replied, her own voice had a grating quality to it that Mai knew meant a long, long lecture awaited her later on, "They are far too obedient for that sort of thing, don't you think, Viola?"

The Countess hummed cheerily in agreement before clapping her hands together lightly like a child receiving a present or making an important discovery, never taking her unblinking gaze from Mai and Shiho, "Oh, I see! They were merely making sure that no other fights would break out in the corridor! Is that not correct? Shiho? Mai?"

A chorus of muttered assurances and clearing of throats ensued. They looked like a couple of school kids that had been caught fighting in the yard.

"Well!" Shizuru turned as though to depart, motioning for Midori to follow, "Then I suppose we better let them return to their activities. Ms. Sugiura?"

"Indeed," Midori shot Mai one last glare over her shoulder that made the District Officer wince before trailing after Shizuru, leaving the two staring at their feet, thoroughly abashed.

As soon as they had rounded the corner, Midori let out a long sight, "Good thing we caught them when we did."

"Mmm," Shizuru hummed wordlessly in response, pensive.

"Should we keep them apart now? I wouldn't want their resentment to escalate and spiral out of control."

"No," Shizuru's voice was firm, "They need to learn to work together. Besides, if we can not even trust them, how could we expect others to do better?"

The Cynthian Leader sighed again, putting her arms over her head as they walked, "I suppose you're right. As usual."

"Was that a compliment, Artemis?"

Midori grinned, "Never."

Shizuru raised a hand to her mouth as she giggled in a surprisingly girlish gesture. People passing by, vampires and Cynthians alike, stared. To anyone looking at them, it would seem as though the two leaders were out for a leisurely stroll, exchanging pleasantries and enjoying each other's company. That was, of course, exactly what they wanted everyone to think. It had been Shizuru's idea to take their private meetings out into the open so that they two could be seen together in a relaxed environment. At first, Midori had been skeptical but had eventually caved in. She had to admit now, the damn plan was actually working.

"So, you were saying? Before we were interrupted? Or rather, did the interrupting."

"Ah, yes," Shizuru lowered her hand and continued with their previous discussion, "Herr Edwin's son, Endymion, informed me that the animals experimented on by the previous establishment are in need of..." she searched for the right word, tapping her cheek thoughtfully with a single finger, finally settling on, "...socialising."

Midori frowned contemplatively, "Socialising? What does that mean?"

"According to Endymion, some of the animals are displaying increasingly erratic and sometimes violent behavior. All of them, actually. Save one. The wolf-pup that Natsuki has recently taken a liking to," Midori did not notice the slight softening of Shizuru's expression when she said Natsuki's name, "He claims that their temperaments might be improved by companionship."

"Alright..." Midori began slowly, "And what do you want me to do about it?"

A passing group of vampire nobles stopped and bowed as Shizuru glided by with Midori and the Countess responded with a graceful nod in their direction before continuing, "I was hoping you could send some men down who would be willing to raise the animals. Who knows?" she turned her head to give Midori a small smile, "Perhaps you will be able to create an entirely new division of warriors accompanied by Turned animal companions."

For a few moments Midori did not respond, "And if I refuse?"

"Then I'm afraid I'm going to have to order their termination," scarlet eyes glanced at the Cynthian Leader from the corners, "You understand why I do not wish to take that particular course of action, yes? Natsuki has become rather smitten with them, particularly the wolf-pup, Duran. I would hate to have to upset her in any way."

Midori's brows met together in a frown, "She _named_ one of them?"

At that, Shizuru merely nodded and said nothing more of the subject, waiting for Midori's reply. What she had not expected, however, were Midori's next words.

"I hear that you and Natsuki have become quite..._intimate_ these days," Midori watched the Countess but never turned her head to do so. Her voice had been smooth and carefully uninflected.

Shizuru's step faltered momentarily, one foot, wrapped in a black leather sandal that criss-crossed up her calf, paused mid-step, hovering just above the stone floor. Her eyes flickered, but she kept that unreadable mask in place. For a second, Midori thought that maybe she had gone to far; she knew before asking that she was treading on dangerous ground. She kept her silence, however, waiting for the woman's response, be it verbal or physical.

The Countess, it seemed, did not wish to play her game. Hard as steel though still flowing soft as silk, Viola's voice had gone cold, the skin around her eyes tightened, her strides ate up more ground, the balls of her feet pressing more firmly upon the floor beneath them, all minute signs of her umbrage, "What goes on between Ms. Kruger and myself," the rippling, slanting hems of her red dress flowed around her legs like wafting swells of the sea, "is none of your concern."

* * *

**(1): Székely: See? I told you this term would come up in later chapters. That's why I added it to the pronunciation guide at the end of chapter 19. The Székely are a group of people in modern day Romania. Originally, they were under Hungarian rule, but after the partition of Hungary post WWI, the Székely were separated from Hungary. They lived in what used to be Transylvania and Wallachia. Now, I know what y'all are thinking. "Oooooh! Transylvania! Like Dracula, right?" **

**No. Vlad Dracul, or Vlad III, Vlad the Impaler, was a Voivoide of Wallachia. Not Transylvania, contrary to popular belief. Don't believe everything dear old Bram Stoker says, boys and girls. (Besides, Stoker's vampires are lame, in my humble opinion). Voivoide can be translated a few ways but I, personally, think that "prince" or "duke" is far more accurate than "count". So all that nonsense about "Count Dracula" should actually be "Prince Dracula" or "Duke Dracula". You know... "Duke Dracula" really doesn't sound half bad. Look at that lovely alliteration there with the d's and the k and c! **

**So, why am I mentioning all of this? Well...Bram Stoker started the myth that dearest Vlad was a Székely. And now Maria just called Reito a Székely...Hmmm...Possible connection, much? :P**

**I hope you liked it! **

**-Kore**


	24. Chapter 24

**Salvete, omnes!**

**I had a question pop up in a PM about vampires and whether or not Shizuru had become a vampire at the same time that she was possessed by the Keres. I think it as good a time as any to make it perfectly clear that technically, in my 'verse, there is no such thing as a "vampire". Sorry. I know the term has been romanticised and all. Even before I started this story, I always had an idea fixed in my mind of awesome "vampiric" humanoids that were in fact something entirely else. I just channeled that idea into Shizuru for the sake of this story. **

**So, for clarity's sake, there are no "vampires". I use that term because, well...what else would I call them? Vampire is just a name given to a myth wherein a creature in the form of a person lives off the life-force or blood of another human. Now, technically, the "vampires" in my 'verse don't actually **_**need**_** blood to survive. They just crave it like mad, constantly. They could live without consuming a drop of human blood, but they would never be able to resist for long. Shizuru is the rare exception, since she has learned to control her thirst (though not necessarily around Natsuki, but that's because Natsuki isn't a normal human. Around normal humans, Shizuru feels the urge to feed, but **_**can**_** resist it). That also means that Shizuru is not a vampire. She is the embodiment of a bloody and violent death. The Keres lusted after blood when they haunted battle-fields, taking the lives of men as the men fought one another. She has the ability to infect people with blood-lust, giving them immortality and incredible strength. (Think back to chapter 20 when Shizuru said, "Am I vampire? Or am I something else." I've been dropping hints like they're coloured eggs on Easter Sunday.) **

**In other words, I prefer the term "vampire-like". They are "vampire-like" but they aren't "vampires". **

**Does that even make sense? It does to me, but...**

**The upside to this character design is that it gives me a great deal more flexibility. I'm not held to the constraints of the vampire-mythos. Oh no, I can have Shizuru do whatever I think a person stuffed full of Keres would be able to do. And trust me, the things she can do are pretty damn crazy. **

**And she's not even the most powerful persona in this 'verse.**

**Fufufu...Now, I'm just being a tease, aren't I? **

**Well, how's about y'all vote in your reviews: Who do you think the most powerful character in this 'verse is or will be? **_**Hint**_**: This character has already made an appearance. **

**Now for a little warning: There's a bit of citrus in this chapter. Ooooh! I know, right?**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

_Crunch._

Purple converse slapped against the stone floor as Natsuki walked, one hand dug firmly into the pocket of her sky-blue hoodie, the other holding a ruby-red apple to her mouth. It may have been eleven in the morning, but down here, in the belly of Westminster Palace, there were no windows to admit the sun's rays. Ergo, torches perennially lined the corridors. Some places had electricity installed, such as her own room and Shizuru's, but the hallways, for some strange reason, were still lit with torches.

_Maybe it's for the ambiance,_ she thought to herself dryly.

Over time, Natsuki had grown used to the rather dim level of lighting, though she sorely missed the feel of the sun on her skin, the wind whistling through her hair, unfurling its strands behind her like a dark banner. Most of all, she missed the smell of the open air. Here was rather dank, a musty smell from the bowels of the earth. She was one for wide open spaces: sprawling plains, waving fields of tall grass, mountainous forests.

_Crunch._

She strode from the Banquet Hall making her way to Shizuru's room for their next lesson, munching on the apple as she went. She'd already had eight that morning, or was it nine? She had lost count. Regardless, she made it clear to her insatiable side that this would be the _last bloody_ apple she would eat today, and that was final! A part of her started to pout. Another part started to wheedle, claiming that maybe just one more apple wouldn't hurt...

_No! This is it! This is the last one! _

That raised a whole chorus of malcontent in her mind.

_Stop it! _she scolded, _Or I'll throw this one out right now! I swear, I will!_

She took the apple from her lips and held it out to her side just to prove it.

Grumbles ensued but they seemed to get the idea that she meant business.

_That's right! I'm boss! I'm...Absolutely crazy..._

_Jesus..._

Sighing, Natsuki crunched into the apple and continued walking. She was going mad. Stark, raving mad.

Perhaps that was a good explanation for why she had kissed Shizuru upon the Irish cliffs.

_Or was she the one to kiss me...? _

_Gah! That shouldn't be what you're concerned about!_

She really had no idea how it had happened. One second she was enjoying the view, the next she and Shizuru were staring at one another like they had seen each other for the first time, and then...Then Shizuru had pulled her in and...well...

Natsuki blushed at the thought and took a particularly large bite of apple to bury the memory.

_Ah! See! It was Shizuru who pulled me in! So it was her fault!_

_Wait...fault?_

_Yes, fault!_

She glared down at the gleaming red skin of the apple, so like the colour of Shizuru's eyes, as if to say, _Tell me what you know! This is all _your_ fault, after all!_

Why couldn't she have just gone through this stage of hormonal uncertainty at the age of sixteen like every other girl on the planet? Instead, here she was, almost twenty years old, feeling the world shift beneath her feet because of one lousy kiss.

Well...Okay...It hadn't been lousy. Actually, it really had been quite good. Very good, in fact. Very, very -

_Would you listen to yourself? _she asked her over-active brain incredulously, _Your priorities are all over the place! Again! _

Oh, come now. You can't deny that you enjoyed it.

_Yes, I can._

Ah, but wasn't it nice? The feel of her hands upon you, the way her curves fit perfectly with yours -

_No. Nononononono. And again. NO. _

But-

_No 'buts'! _

Walking down the hall, dodging Cynthian soldiers and vampires alike, Natsuki carefully nibbled around the edges of the apple's core, wanting to savour her last one for the day. All the while, she was still enduring an intense argument with her other selves. Currently, her main self, the self that was in control, paced, wearing a uniform of the British Admiralty, one hand behind the back, the other brandishing a sabre (or, rather, this main self fancied that it was in control; it was so often undermined by the desires of the others, all currently standing in attendance, of which her libido was the most prominent aggressor in this debate). _So help me God, we will _not_ fall to the ensnaring ways of this seductress of the sea, this temptress of tempests! We will stand fast in the face of this coming storm! Should she endeavor to charm us again, we will immediately and zealously strike down her devilish hopes of beguiling and enamouring and _defiling_ our person! _

Her libido merely blinked owlishly at her, one eyebrow raised as though to say, _Just you wait and see..._

Natsuki was already lapping up the sweet juices on her fingers before she realised that she had finished the apple, but for the small stem which she was currently regarding as though wondering if it wouldn't taste half as bad as she thought it would. With a regretful sigh, she flicked it aside, earning a glare from a passing Cynthian soldier whom it almost struck.

_Big deal,_ she thought dryly, _you almost got hit by an apple stem. Piss off. _

She knew people in Parliament were starting to become increasingly paranoid, but this was just ridiculous. She was on their side, after all. Why would they glare at her like that?

Shrugging the question off, she suddenly stopped herself from almost walking into a door.

_What the..._

Frowning, Natsuki took a step back and eyed the door. It was Shizuru's door.

_But, how -? I was still a good three floors from Shizuru's room. How could I have -?_

_Unless..._

She growled. She knew what had happened. She had accidentally teleported to Shizuru's room without even thinking about it. Apparently, letting her mind wander while she walked was no longer an option. She hoped that nobody downstairs had noticed her sudden disappearance.

_I really need to get these stupid powers under control._

God, what a nuisance.

Knocking but not waiting for a reply, Natsuki strode casually into the room and saw something that made her freeze in her tracks.

Shizuru was chuckling in Herr Edwin's arms while Herr Edwin smiled kindly down at her, his arm around her waist, holding her hand in the air with the other.

Natsuki's blood boiled.

_See? _her libido purred, arching its back and rubbing against an unused scratching post like a satisfied cat_, What did I tell you?_

* * *

Furniture had been rearranged, pushed back against the bed and walls. On the table in the widened space of the room rested a recently used oriental tea-set, the spout still steaming slightly though the cups were empty. Right beside the tea-set was a set of speakers into which had been plugged a device that Herr Edwin had called an "eye-pod", the name of which still confused Shizuru to no end. What on earth did it have to do with the "eye"? If anything, it should be called an "ear-pod". And what was all this "pod" business? Surely it did not grow on trees, waiting for somebody to come along and peel away a fleshy outer layer of cellulose to reveal the mechanics within? No, that couldn't be right...

Soft music trickled from the speakers, just loud enough for them to feel the beat, to move to the rhythm.

_Barco en el mar, lejos de ti / El horizonte, linea sin fin_ (1)

Shizuru laughed as she stumbled over the moves, accidentally treading on Herr Edwin's feet before jumping back a bit with an apologetic look, "Oh Lord! This is awful! Just awful!"

Herr Edwin's own sound of amusement joined hers and he steadied her with the hand resting lightly on her hip, careful not to go any lower for fear of loosing a limb, "You're doing superbly! And you say this is your first time dancing the tango?"

Tisking, she fondly slapped his shoulder with the hand that rested there, "You're a shameless flatterer, Herr Württemberg."

He grinned, "I do my best, Mistress."

"Now what have I told you about that 'Mistress' nonsense?" she scolded as they began moving again across the cleared space in the center of her room, "You needn't call me that unless we are conducting official business."

He put on a face of mock sobriety, "Of course, _Countess Viola_. My apologies."

"Insufferable!"

_Nubes que llenan mi soledad / Pintan tu boca, parecen hablar_

They moved smoothly together for a few measures without any mishaps. Shizuru twisted her body abruptly, red dress flaring, honeyed strands of hair whipping about her face, leg shooting out at Her Edwin's side before sliding back into place, crooked between them. He spun her about, flinging his arms wide as he did so and her foot shot out behind her as though staggering back. It was on the spin back into his waiting arms, however, that she fumbled.

"_Pro pudor!_" she cried, grabbing a hold of his shoulders to steady herself, "There is a God and he does not wish for me to entertain myself with modern dance!" (2)

Just then, they were interrupted by the door opening.

Shizuru's smile flickered momentarily as she turned to see who had entered. Then the smile grew in warmth and she smoothly stepped away from Herr Edwin to greet the newcomer, "Why hello, Natsuki! What a pleasant surprise!" The only problem was, Natsuki did not seem particularly pleased to see her.

The raven-haired girl was scowling ferociously, her eyes shooting daggers at Herr Edwin. She did not even register that Shizuru had spoken to her.

"Herr Edwin was so kind as to teach me different types of modern dance," Shizuru began uncertainly, but Natsuki continued to ignore her, "At my request, of course..."

A small, bemused frown wrinkled the Countess' brow and she stepped forward. She placed her hand on the girl's shoulder, ducking her head down to look the girl full in the face, "Natsuki?"

The combination of Shizuru's voice and touch jerked Natsuki out of whatever reverie she had been immersed in, but all the girl said was, "Hmmph."

"My Natsuki is always so verbose," Shizuru said dryly. Right after the words came from her mouth, she immediately wished she could take them back and she winced. Surely Natsuki would bristle at her misplaced words. She had never called her "my Natsuki" aloud before. That was purely for when she referred to the girl in her mind.

But the girl did not even seem to notice. Instead, she growled, still darting death-glares in Herr Edwin's direction, "Dance, you say?"

"Ah! She speaks!" Shizuru stood to her full height and grinned down at her, "Yes. Dance." Struck with sudden inspiration, she teased, "Would Natsuki care to dance with me?"

She expected the girl to blush and stammer, as she usually did. She was so looking forward to seeing that flawless skin stain a delightful pink, always so swift to appear at her behest. It always filled Shizuru with the near overwhelming desire to press her own cheek to hers, to feel that warmth.

_Just as I did on the Cliffs of Moher_.

Shizuru still had a difficult time believing that that moment had occurred at all. Her memories told her that, yes, it had happened, but she was afraid that it was all just a trick of the mind. Perhaps she had simply mixed up memory and fantasy. She needed to be sure, to be absolutely sure that the girl wanted it. She didn't want to push the girl anymore than she wanted to push herself.

_Yes, control yourself, Šizsur._

Control? She had forgotten the meaning of the word. How could she control herself with Natsuki standing before her, looking so radiant, snatching her breath away without even trying? Herr Edwin could just excuse himself from the room while Shizuru ravished her, couldn't he?

To her amazement, however, Natsuki snatched up her hand and dragged her over to the center of the cleared space, "I'll take over form here, _Herr Edwin_," she spat out his name with barely concealed venom as she possessively pulled Shizuru to her.

_My, my..._

Shizuru hoped she didn't look as surprised as she felt.

Hazel eyes widened and Herr Edwin was forced to hide a smirk, "Of course," he bowed to them both, "I'll deliver my report later tonight. Or should I wait until tomorrow morning?"

Shizuru shot him an exasperated glance.

He smiled, "Tomorrow morning it is, then."

Shizuru rolled her eyes as he departed, the door shutting softly in his wake.

The music had long since stopped, leaving the two alone in silence. Natsuki's brows were still pressed together in an angry frown and she was glaring at the closed door as if daring Herr Edwin to come back in.

_Well, now what are the advantages of having Natsuki in my arms if she isn't even paying me any attention? _

Thinking it an innocent enough gesture, Shizuru ran her fingers through the wave of black hair that poured down the side of Natsuki's profile. It brushed the girl's neck and ear as it dropped back into place, slipping through Shizuru's hand like dark, shimmering water. The movement caught Natsuki's attention, just as she predicted, and the girl looked over at her, the scowl slowly clearing from her features.

"You've come rather early," Shizuru stated the fact, tilting her head to gauge Natsuki's reaction.

Surprise crossed Natsuki's face, "What do you mean? You said to be here at ten, didn't you?"

Shizuru couldn't keep the crooked smile from her lips, "Yes. Ten o'clock _at night._"

The girl's mouth formed a small 'o' of realisation and she suddenly looked thoroughly embarrassed, turning her head aside. She did not step away, however, and her hand remained on Shizuru's waist. It did not go unnoticed by Shizuru, and she pressed her attack, "Unless Natsuki wanted to join in on my dancing lessons?"

"Why dancing, anyway?" Natsuki maneuvered around the question with a query of her own.

"I think it important to be informed on modern culture," here, Shizuru was being completely truthful; besides, she like music and dancing, though she had never excelled at the arts in any way, though she had been an enthusiastic patron in her time, "And Herr Edwin was kind enough to update me on some of the arts of the past six hundred years or so."

The girl's eyes narrowed at the mention of Herr Edwin's name.

"You do not like Herr Edwin?"

"He's fine," Natsuki grumbled, sullen, "He just had his hands all over you..."

Shizuru could not resist such an ample opportunity to tease, "My Natsuki couldn't have possibly been _jealous_, could she?"

The girl flushed fiercely, "N-No!"

_Ah...There's that blush..._

Shizuru grinned, "Oh, I see! So Natsuki _did_ want to dance!" She used the line as an excuse to put her arms around Natsuki's neck and bring her closer. The girl did not resist, but she looked anywhere than at Shizuru.

"W-we can dance," Natsuki stammered, the blush only fading to a rosy pink that lingered on her cheeks, glancing tentatively up at Shizuru through long, dark lashes, "if you like..."

If Natsuki had been any other girl, Shizuru would have thought she was trying her hand at the art of seduction.

_And succeeding..._

_Slowly, now..._she admonished herself, _Slowly..._

Reservation be damned! She wanted to push the girl down onto the floor and take her on the carpet.

Instead, Shizuru narrowly avoided temptation by proposing something that might give them more space, "How about Natsuki gives me a demonstration of modern dance? Hmm?" The scent of her was driving Shizuru insane; her hands itched to tear off Natsuki's clothes and feel her lustrous skin, "Just pick any song you like."

"I-I don't know..." Natsuki was biting her lower lip now

"Nonsense," Shizuru admonished her cheerily.

God, how did she manage to keep her voice like that? Surely, it would snap at any second and take along with it any sense of self-restraint and common decency. Not to mention her dignity. She would do anything the girl wanted. She would be under her complete control. She would accomplish any task, any feat just to see her smile.

_And she doesn't even know what she's doing to me..._

Swallowing, Shizuru kept the smile plastered in place and led Natsuki to the dark, mahogany table, gesturing to the "eye-pod".

The girl looked up at her uncertainly, then back down at the device. Looking profoundly worried all the while, she scrolled through songs and artists, the small tool making clicking noises as it as she did so, the sounds periodically pausing as she considered a certain song before shaking her head and continuing. Finally, she decided on a song and, fighting back the blush on her cheeks, she removed her hoodie, revealing a skin-tight, navy cotton camisole - apparently she had not expected to be involved in an activity that would require her to start taking off articles of clothing - and moved to the middle of the room.

"Don't you _dare_ laugh at me," she warned, raising a threatening finger at Shizuru.

Shizuru just leaned on the table, one hand resting on its glossy wooden surface, the other on her leg. She smiled, "I would never dream of it."

The music began to play.

And Natsuki began to move.

It was a strange dance, yet Shizuru could not look away. The girl's sinuous body would twist and contort, then slide free as though bursting from a shell of motion. Her legs never carried her far from where she stood, but she still seemed to move so, so fleet of foot. Shizuru's eyes wandered down every curve, every plane every angle of Natsuki's form, a distant caress. Her crimson gaze lingered on the line of Natsuki's pale neck, traveled across her back, soaking in the sight of a strip of creamy flesh on her smooth stomach, wishing she could feel the defined muscles of her slim thighs. Perhaps Shizuru was a masochist for torturing herself in this way.

_Ah...but it is such a sweet torture..._

It looked more like some distant tribal dance, an offering to the gods for rain, beseeching the radiant celestial beings that dwelled in the silver astral seas to pour their gifts down upon the dry earth, the bountiful earth. Yet there was a beat there, thrumming within her, compelling the girl's body to move. Shizuru's breath hitched as Natsuki slowly dragged her hands up the sides of her torso, curling around her shoulders to net the wealth of dark hair, like an inky river sighing through the night. Head tipped back, eyes closed, she raised her arms above her head, wrists grazing, crossing and twirling even as her hips slowly gyrated, ankles flashing, feet never seeming to touch the ground.

The hand at Shizuru's thigh clenched into a fist, scarlet fabric caught between her trembling fingers.

_Pothos take me..._

Her eyes flashed to a blazing blood-red.

_I...I can stand it no longer..._

And suddenly she was standing behind her, palms resting on the girl's waist. Natsuki's skin leaped at her touch and the girl froze, hands still stretched above her.

"Sh-Shizuru?"

_Forgive me, my Natsuki..._

Shizuru did not answer the girl's tremulous, questioning tone. Sliding her hands down, enshrouded in a sweltering veil of desire, she buried her nose in Natsuki's blue-black hair, nuzzling, breathing in deeply then parting the dark seas to expose the back of her delicate neck. She brushed her lips across the silky skin there and vaguely heard Natsuki's sharp intake of breath in reply.

_I've been wanting to do this for so long..._

She planted a lingering kiss on the back of Natsuki's neck. The girl shivered deliciously. Shizuru could hear her heart's pace speed up, lurching forward like a whipped horse. Her left hand began to slowly knead the curving flesh of Natsuki's hip, her right gliding around to Natsuki's front, slipping beneath the hem of her camisole. Spreading her fingers wide, she pressed inward, causing Natsuki's back to come into contact with her front. As her hands worked, steadily revealing more and more of the girl's skin, pushing the camisole up her ribcage, Shizuru's mouth kissed up Natsuki's neck, grazing her teeth against a spot just beneath her ear.

A whimper met her actions.

_Ah, a sensitive spot..._

Marking it down in her mind, Shizuru continued.

_Where was the other...? Ah, there..._

One of her hand had wandered to the place above Natsuki's right hip where she had been so responsive to her touch upon the cliffs and she began to slowly trace torpid patterns on the skin there, every now and then stroking her fingernails across it. Natsuki gasped, her arms folding at the elbows so that they arched over her head, grasping at Shizuru's hair. Shizuru responded by traveling down to the slope where the girl's neck met her shoulder and drawing the creamy skin into her mouth, sucking, lightly nipping.

Natsuki was burning up now, her skin flushed a brilliant, dappled pink. She looked so stunning like this. How long had it been since Shizuru had done this? Not indulged in the act of sex, she had done that in more ways and with more people than she thought prudent to openly discuss. No. How long had it been since she had lavished such attention upon another? Normally, others sought to please _her_, and if she returned the favour it certainly was more for her benefit than theirs. At this moment, she may have been relishing the feel of the other, but in the end she was not aiming towards her own pleasure. She was aiming at Natsuki's.

And the girl was so eager to give herself over, it seemed. Her lips were slightly parted. Small whimpers and cut off moans escaped her in spite of her efforts to hold them back. Those emerald eyes were squeezed shut. Her brow was knitted.

Reaching up with one hand, Shizuru seized the girl's chin and pulled her mouth to her own. A groan welled up deep within her as Natsuki's tongue slipped out, so hesitant. She wasted no time in meeting it half-way, then drifting past it to explore the warm recesses of Natsuki's mouth. Neck twisted around from when Shizuru had turned her face, Natsuki's hands lowered over her head, digging into Shizuru's hair, and pulled her harder into the kiss. The girl deepened the kiss, still so timid it ached.

Groaning, Shizuru let her hands slide over Natsuki's body without restraint now. Natsuki gasped as Shizuru's hand cupped her breast through a bra of gray lace, the other falling further. Slowly, her hand dragged down Natsuki's thigh then back up, following the trail of the inner seam of the girl's gray jeans. Out of instinct, Natsuki's knee bent to allow Shizuru better access. She pressed her hips further into Natsuki and cupped the junction of her legs. Shizuru could feel the heat of her through the thick cotton material. She traced the crossroad of seams there and was rewarded with a long, drawn-out moan.

A knock sounded at the door.

With great reluctance and no small amount of irritation, Shizuru detached her mouth from Natsuki's. Green eyes were gazing up at her now, darkened with desire. The girl had not even heard the intrusion. Shizuru tried to get her quickened breath under control, but could not resist giving the girl one last kiss before completely pulling away. Natsuki looked confused as Shizuru did so, finally lowering her arms to her side. After a moment, however, she seemed to become more aware of herself and her surroundings, for she cleared her throat and pulled down her camisole that Shizuru had lifted to gain better access to her chest. Shizuru allowed her eyes to rove across Natsuki's figure before striding to the door and opening it.

She plastered a broad smile into place to greet whomever was behind it.

It was Herr Edwin's youngest son, Endymion.

He glanced up at her nervously, wringing his hands, "Uh...I-I'm sorry t-t-to dist-t-urb you, Mist-tress," he began, fighting through his speech impediment to no avail, "B-But the Cy-Cynthian Leader has agr-agreed t-t-t-t -"

Taking pity on the poor boy, Shizuru said calmly, "It's alright, Endymion. I understand."

Breathing a sigh of relief, he beamed up at her and then promptly remembered who he was speaking to, ducking his head in obeisance.

Shizuru was rather stunned.

_The boy isn't half-bad looking when he smiles! _she thought rather incredulously, _Quite the contrary, to be exact!_ He had his mother's gray eyes, but his father's warmth. Most of the members of the nobility thought him a half-wit because of his stammer and the way he doted on animals, but Endymion was by no means lacking in intelligence. What he lacked was confidence. And an understanding speech-therapist with a gentle hand.

"Did Midori tell you when she would be sending her men?" she asked.

"In a f-few hours, Mist-tress."

Looking over her shoulder, Shizuru saw that Natsuki had put her sweatshirt back on and was currently fidgeting with the strings that ran through the edge of the hood, face still a brilliant red, "Natsuki?" Shizuru called out.

"Y-yes?" the girl yelped, starting.

"Would you like to accompany Endymion to the dungeons?"

Natsuki's expression brightened, and she visibly relaxed, "Oh! Is that End?" She walked towards them and grinned at the boy, "Hey there, End!"

"H-hello, Ms. K-K-Kruger," Endymion responded.

"Come on, End!" Natsuki chided playfully, "I told you to call me Natsuki."

"S-Sorry, Nats-tsuki."

"He is going to introduce a few Cynthian soldiers to the animals soon for..." Shizuru frowned and turned her gaze upon the boy, "What was it you called it, Endymion?"

"B-B-Bonding, Mist-tress."

"Yes. That."

Brushing her hair back, Natsuki said, "Actually, yea! That sounds great!" Natsuki had just started to step out when her expression fell and she glanced over at Shizuru. She licked her lips nervously before asking, "S-Should I come back tonight?"

_Was that hope in your voice, my Natsuki?_

Shizuru knew she should tell Natsuki to come back tomorrow. Or better yet, never. She knew it would be for the best if she did, but instead she said, "Yes. Please do."

Natsuki merely nodded and then she and Endymion were walking down the hall, chatting animatedly, if haltingly. Leaning against the doorway, Shizuru watched them go. Her heart leaped in her chest when Natsuki snuck a last hurried glance over her shoulder when the two reached the corner. Seeing Shizuru standing there, watching her, the girl's blush returned in full force.

And then they were gone.

Shizuru let out the breath she had been unconsciously holding in a great whoosh of air. For a few moments, she did nothing more than stare at the spot where Natsuki had just been as though hoping, praying that she would suddenly return. She had not expected for anything to happen today. She had not expected Natsuki to show up when she did. She had not expected the girl's possessiveness. She had not expected such an alluring show to tempt her as it did so well. And the truth was, she was afraid.

She was afraid of how much she cared for this girl. She had already lost all the people she ever cared for in this world. Long ago, she swore to never make herself so vulnerable again. And yet, here she was, pining after a young slip of a girl. The thought of loosing Natsuki made her feel physically ill. If anything were to happen to her...Should someone threaten her...Shizuru would not be able to keep herself from coming to Natsuki's aid. No matter the costs.

* * *

**(1): Lyrics from Pink Martini's **_**Mar Desconocido**_**. God, I love that band. Saw them in concert. They were awesome. Though, I have to admit, I wasn't listening to them when I was writing this. I was listening to She & Him, Zooey Deschanel's band. Dammit Zooey! Why'd you have to go and marry Ben Gibbard from **_**Death Cab for Cutie**_**? WHY? **

**(2): Pro pudor: Latin. "For shame!" **

**Hope you liked it! I know it wasn't the big smexy scene y'all were expecting, but we'll get there. Patience, my dear Watson. Patience...**


	25. Chapter 25

**Sorry, this chapter is a bit on the short side: only about 8 pages. **

**To answer a few questions that cropped up in reviews: The reason why I had Natsuki be a descendant of Nina is for the growth of Shizuru and Natsuki's relationship. At the beginning of this fic, Shizuru regarded Natsuki as a meal and Natsuki regarded Shizuru as a blood-thirsty monster. It would have been completely irrational for them to suddenly fall into each other's arms with teary exclamations of, "Aah, Natsuki ga daisuki da yo!" and vice versa. (Or would that be "daisuki **_**wa**_** yo"? Since I always imagine Shizuru speaking in a more feminine manner in Nihongo...) In any case, Nina is Shizuru's connection to her lost / buried humanity. Now knowing that Natsuki is Nina's descendant makes Shizuru look at Natsuki through a very different lens, especially one that doesn't say, "Yuuumm, lunch!" Shizuru has learned to control her blood-lust, but she can never control her heart. (As a side note, why, oh dear god, **_**why**_** did they make Shizuru's English dub have a southern accent? I know that the Kyoto accent is viewed as a bit rural by modern Japanese society, but it used to be considered a very refined dialect back in the day. So I can see where they're coming from but...really? **_**Southern?**_** Blech.)**

**Next: Does Shizuru have an accent in this 'verse? Indeed, she does! I've mentioned it a few times, but I haven't drawn too much attention to the fact. Usually it's something along the lines of, "...then speaking in that lilting voice..." Shizuru is supposed to have just a hint of an Hungarian accent since that is her native language in this 'verse. If you like, I'll start highlighting it a bit more, though I try to make her speech patterns in general more antiquated without being downright Shakespearean. I don't think my poor readers could handle so many thee's and thou's and thine's, if you get my drift. **  
**And now for the votes! We have:**

**Mashiro: 3**

**Haruka: 3**

**Natsuki: 3**

**Revenant: 2**

**Fumi (Chronos): 1**

**Yukino: 1**

**Endymion: 1**

**Poor Endymion got a vote? Aww...No, I'm afraid Endymion can be crossed off this list. The rest are good guesses, however. As for who is the most powerful of the lot, whoever voted for Mashiro gets a gold star sticker. YAY! Mashiro is by far the most powerful persona in this 'verse. One could argue that the Revenant is the second most powerful, if not **_**the**_** most powerful, but there's a caveat that comes with that. Let's just say that the Revenant requires the power of others, and therefore technically has the greatest **_**potential**_**. In terms of raw power right at the fingertips, however, Mashiro outstrips them all.**

**But we'll get to all that later...**

**As I said in an earlier chapter, y'all still have a good 30 chapters or so to go. Unless things change and I decide to extend the plot. Though I doubt that. You see, I've already got the very last scene all planed out. You'll like it. Trust me :)**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

Smoke drifted before a bright computer screen. The blue-white glow of the screen washed out Nao's face to a pasty white, her red hair to a blanched purple. Her frame-less glasses caught the light, reflected images flickering across their squared surfaces. The rest of the room was completely dark and shadowy shapes of file cabinets and a table laden with a coffee machine and two used mugs loomed in the darkness. The only other light came from behind her, from her partner's computer. Every now and then, Takeda would, without looking, reach to the left for his coffee mug on the table, scrolling away on his computer, lift the mug to his lips, realise that the mug was empty with a startled look down, then place the mug back on the table, only for the process to happen again in about two minutes. Nao, on the other hand, was jamming out to music while she worked, heavy metal blaring in her ears, urging her fingers to work faster as she typed. Her lips moved, silently mouthing the lyrics, making the cigarette in her lips bob, though she did not seem to realise that she was doing it at all. A good centimeter of ash hung precariously from the end of her cigarette, but she flicked it away in a nearby ashtray without even having to think about it. She finished off the cigarette with one last, long draw before stumping it out in the ashtray already filled with cigarette carcasses teetering like a tiny burned city of paper and glass. Smoke blew from her nose as she exhaled, twin jets of white-gray flaring out only to rise between herself and the computer screen.

"Hey, Nao," Takeda began, looking at his own screen, "Nao," When she did not answer, he glanced over his shoulder to see that her head was bobbing in time to the music trickling from her ear-buds, completely ignoring him. With a sigh, he kicked his wheeled chair over to her and tugged the buds from her ears by the rubber-covered wires.

Scowling at him and snatching back the buds from his hands, Nao snapped, "What, Masashi?"

"There's nothing new on the cases from either Odessa or Minsk," he informed her, his expression one of regret, "They're the same as the one from Charing Cross and Waterloo Station. Completely clean."

"Dammit..." she muttered. She peeled off her glasses with one hand and rubbed her aching eyes with the other. For a moment, her brain worked, whirring away. Placing the spectacles back on the ridge of her nose, she pushed her own chair over to his station right across from hers, "Let me look at them for a minute."

Takeda shrugged and let her do as she wished. He knew better than to get in her way when she was frustrated. Or when she was in _any_ mood, really. He peered over her shoulder as she tapped away on his laptop, fingers moving like blurred lightning across the keyboard as she typed. A mess of photos cropped up, one after the other. The images flickered rapidly before stopping, a whole slew of nearly identical crime-scenes from all across Europe. As of now, there were twenty-four murders total spanning from London, Odessa, Minsk and Rome.

The pattern didn't make sense. There didn't seem to even _be _a pattern. And yet the murders were somehow linked. The evidence to defend that was irrefutable: twenty-four killings in the past two to three weeks, all young women from the ages of fifteen to nineteen, all drained dry with their right hands neatly severed, all dumped in a major city. This couldn't be a coincidence.

Takeda was still convinced it was the work of a vampire, but Nao doubted. Why would a vampire do this? How could it possibly be a single person, at that? Unless there was some sort of psychopathic killing community that experimented on young girls and met later at a cafe to compare notes. The only way it could possibly be a single person were if they owned a god-damned private jet. None of it made sense.

Clicking through the pictures, the furrow in Nao's brow grew with every window that she exited out of. The sound of grinding teeth could be heard and Takeda looked down to see her jaw clenched tight, eyes narrowed at the screen.

_This is starting to get very irritating..._she thought.

And then, all of a sudden, she stopped. Leaning forward, Nao squinted at the screen.

"There!" she thrust her finger at a spot on the screen, triumphant, "You see that?"

He arched an incredulous eyebrow at her, "See what? It's just a smudge. Maybe some dirt. God knows," he said dryly, "there would never be any dirt in a back alley of Minsk."

She grinned at him and lit up a victory cigarette, blowing the smoke in his face, which he waved away, frowning, "Yea, but are smudges of dirt perfectly curved?"

"Eh?"

He studied the picture more closely.

_God damn it._

_She's right._

_I hate it when she's right..._

Upon closer inspection, the smudge of dirt was, in fact, an edge of a perfect circle drawn on a wall near the crime-scene.

"And," Nao added, looking exultant, "I doubt that's dirt."

She pushed her chair back over to her own station, kicking off of the ground with her legs and catching herself on her desk with a bent knee, "Back to work, Masashi. I want a full picture of that circle."

Running a hand through his hair, Takeda sighed and settled back in his chair.

_Looks like I'm going to be here for a while..._

* * *

A long line of Cynthian soldiers extended down the hall. Natsuki blinked at them. This was certainly more than she had expected. Apparently, Endymion had been expecting this much, however, for her trotted up to the front of the line without further ado and began directing people into various cells. A few of the soldiers looks a bit disgruntled at having to take off their helmets before being ushered into a cell, whereas others already had their helmets tucked under their arms. Some waited patiently, some chatted in small circles in the line, others tapped their feet impatiently, glaring off to the sides, obviously wishing they could be elsewhere. The halls were large enough that when Natsuki walked by them to get to Duran's cell, she wasn't forced to dodge around people. She received a few curious looks when she opened Duran's stall without any direction from Endymion. The looks turned to stares when an enormous wolf-pup bounded out to greet her.

"Oof!"

Natsuki landed square on her butt as Duran tackled her to the ground, tail wagging furiously, licking every inch of skin he could get his large, red tongue on.

"Aack!" she yelped, trying to ward off his slobbery attack with her hands to no avail, "Too...much...puppy-love!"

Apparently, she had kept her mouth open for too long, for Duran somehow managed to land a kiss right across her lips. Spluttering, Natsuki held him at bay by pushing his chest away and spat over her shoulder, "Blech! Duran!" She scolded, green eyes narrowing.

The wolf whined, ears going back. He halted his enthusiastic assault and obediently sat on his haunches, looking up at her, abashed.

Wiping off her face the sleeves of her hoodie, Natsuki couldn't keep the grin from her face, "Jesus, dog! I just saw you yesterday!"

He whined again, this time shooting her an accusing glance. Ah, she knew what that meant. Usually, Natsuki visited him in the morning after breakfast. Today, though, she had broken that schedule by going to see Shizuru instead, thinking that their meeting was supposed to be in the morning instead of at night.

Apologetically, she scratched him behind the ears, saying, "I'm sorry. Mama was..._busy_ this morning..."

At this, her face flushed beet-red.

_Yes, _her libido mused, chortling, _you were certainly very busy this morning, weren't you, Nat?_

_Shut up..._she mumbled back.

She tried not to think about the events that had taken place in Shizuru's room less than an hour ago. Tried and failed. It was difficult to not recall the way Shizuru's lips had roved over the skin of her neck, the way her hands had roamed her torso, her legs...The memory alone made her shiver, a warm quiver running all through her body. She could still feel Shizuru's breasts pressed up against her back, her hot breath in her ear, her warm, wet mouth on her shoulder...

_What was that again about not letting this "seductress of the sea defile our person", or some such nonsense?_

_Uh...I forgot?_

_Uh-huh..._

God, how had that even happened?

So, of course, she reverted back to the old, _It was all Shizuru's fault..._

_Yes, but you danced for her, didn't you?_

Natsuki couldn't deny that part.

_Yes, but...uh..._

But what? Had she been trying to lure Shizuru in? Had she really been _jealous_ of Herr Edwin? Had she actually liked what had occurred between them?

_No? Yes? _

_No._

_Wait! Yes._

_No! What am I thinking? NO. _

_But maybe..._

Duran slumped forward, lying down in her lap, his sharp elbows digging in to her thighs, making her wince, "Ouch!" Well, at least it jerked her out of a very heated Shizuru-Land, a dangerous nether realm of boiling oceans and festering desires beneath a turbulent troposphere of thick, noxious haze, "Christ! How much do you weigh now? 45 kilograms? 50?" she jabbed at his furry flank with one finger, "Maybe I should tell End to not feed you so much." (1)

He huffed grumpily at her and she laughed.

"Hey, Duran," she ruffled the thick fur of his neck, voice overly bright, "Wanna play?"

Duran whimpered and his tail thumped noisily on the floor.

"What's that, boy? Wanna play?"

With a happy train of barks, Duran leaped to his feet and loped back into his stall. He snatched up a torn teddy bear in his jaws, already with copious amounts of cotton stuffing missing or otherwise hanging out of holes, and shook it enthusiastically back and forth. Natsuki followed, grabbing one of the bear's legs that dangled from Duran's mouth and yanking on it. Growling fiercely, Duran lowered his head and pulled back, occasionally giving the bear a good shake to try to loosen Natsuki's hold on it. She was not to be so easily outmatched, however, and started to play with his ears with one hand while her other continued to pull. But the wolf-pup had seen this tactic before and he was not so easily distracted. In an attempt to get a better grip on the toy by shuffling his mouth along its belly, Natsuki was able to snatch the bear away. As soon as it was out of reach, he sat down, tail sweeping from side to side, staring at the toy in her hands and whining.

"Haha!" Natsuki bellowed victoriously, swinging the dilapidated toy above her head, "Natsuki: 1, Mutt: 0!" she winked at him, "You need to get on top of your game!"

_Whine._

"What's that? So eager to loose in round two?"

She threw the bear across the room and Duran darted after it in a streak of gray and black fur.

The score was Natsuki: 12, Duran: 14 and the poor bear, apart from losing an arm, was starting to get soggy when Natsuki heard a commotion in the hallway. She had left the door to the cell open and she could see that the line had significantly diminished. Indeed, when she peeked outside, it seemed that there were only four more soldiers left.

_Wow, that went fast,_ Natsuki thought to herself.

But then she realised that it was these soldiers who were causing the commotion.

They were crowding around Endymion, who stood in their midst, shoulders hunched, eyes darting nervously from side to side, looking frightened. In his arms was the eagle that had sat on Natsuki's shoulder in the cell. One of the soldiers, obviously the leader of the bunch, circled the boy like a vulture, taunting, jeering in a heavy Cockney accent, "Why should we want to bond with one of them _freak_ animals then, eh?" The others chortled nastily, watching Endymion's reaction.

The boy clutched the eagle closer to his chest, seeming to sink further into himself, "Uh..."

"It's a valid question, ain't it?"

"Y-Y-Yes..." Endymion swallowed hard as though past an obstruction in his throat, "I-It's b-b-b-because...uh..."

"It's b-b-because what, then?" the soldier said, mocking his stammer.

Natsuki's face darkened into a thunderous expression. Witnessing this single encounter, she was suddenly driven back into memories she preferred best untraversed, hurtling back through their many glassy, amorphous forms.

Back to her days in the orphanage when the kids would all gather around her, poking her, pulling her hair, calling her "N-N-N-Nattering N-N-N-Natsuki!" while she sat on the floor and cried. The orphanage where the nuns would whack her knuckles with a ruler at every consonant she tripped over.

Back to her days of school, when the teachers would skip over her in English class for reading because they didn't want her wasting class time with her slow, faltering pace.

Back to her days with the first couple that had adopted her at the age of seven, when the man would go to the pub and stagger home at night, wailing for his dinner which his wife had left wrapped in cellophane on the counter, his wife who working the graveyard shift, never home until five or six in the morning. Whenever Natsuki opened her mouth to speak and nothing but stammers came out, he would be quick to anger, yell at her, strike her, "Just spit it out already, you fucking idiot!" _Slap._ "Come on! Speak!" She fell to the tiled kitchen floor, breaking her first bone, her wrist, "What the fuck is wrong with you! Stop crying!"

"Come on!" one of the soldiers now taunted Endymion, "Speak!"

Natsuki had had enough.

"Hey!" she stormed over to them, eyes blazing, Duran trotting along at her heels, "Leave him alone!"

The soldiers stepped back and regarded Natsuki with disdain, "Oh, look," the leader drawled, unimpressed by the threat she posed, "It's Viola's fuck-toy."

_F-Fuck-toy?_ Natsuki's eyebrow twitched dangerously.

"Now listen up!" she barked at them, stomping right up to the leader and angrily prodded his chest with one finger, the force of which made him stagger back a step, "I may be on your side, but if you don't leave him alone or I will _make_ you!"

"On _our side_?" His features contorted into an ugly sneer, "You murdered three of us in these dungeons! You're not on our side!" he snapped back at her, "I'd back off if I were you!" With a smirk her reached out and brushed her hair from her cheek before she could jerk away in time in disgust, "Besides, I'd hate to scar that pretty face."

The others snickered, hands already resting on their guns.

A low, menacing growl sounded from Natsuki's side and Duran snapped at him. Cursing loudly, the soldier aimed a heavy kick at the wolf, which Duran easily side-stepped.

Natsuki snarled wordlessly. In her anger, her brilliant white aura had started to slip from beneath her skin, making her glow. Her gaze flashed to one of emerald flames.

_That's it!_

"Soldiers!" A voice boomed out from down the hall.

Immediately, the four Artemisians snapped to attention. Natsuki turned, eyes still burning, perilous, and her gaze alighted upon a furious Mai Tokiha accompanied by Shiho Munakata. The two strode down the hall and stopped before the group. Shiho stayed a few paces back, watching, but the District Officer walked right up to the soldiers glaring at each of them in turn. When she spoke, it was through clenched teeth, "If I _ever,_" she began in a hiss, "hear so much as a whisper that any of you lot harassed someone again, be it human or otherwise, I'll make sure you never see the light of day outside of a Company cell in Phaesporia for a month!" Her lilac eyes narrowed, "Have I made myself clear, soldiers?"

"Yes, Ma'am!"

"Dismissed!"

They almost scrambled over themselves to get away down the hall and out of sight.

Even though they were gone, Natsuki still had to take a few deep steadying breaths before her aura retracted again.

"Th-Thank you, Ms. T-Tokiha," Endymion started to say, but before he could finish, the eagle leaped forward from his grasp with a great screech and flew right into Mai's arms.

Mai had caught the large bird purely out of instinct and now stood there, shell-shocked, eyes wide as she stared down at the eagle. It made a strange cooing noise and nuzzled against her breastplate, "What on earth -?"

"L-Look, Ms. T-Tokiha!" Endymion smiled broadly at the Officer, who was still stunned, holding the eagle to her chest, "You've m-m-made an-nother v-v-vampire f-friend!"

Mai blinked at him, "Another?"

"W-Well, yes," he gestured to Shiho, then performed a neat bow in accordance with his status in comparison to hers.

The two stared at one another with looks of loathing and revulsion.

"_Friend?_" Mai yelped, taking a step back from the small, vampire girl.

Shiho looked like she was going to be sick.

"Well, I don't want this thing!" she fumed, trying to thrust the eagle back into Endymion's arms.

The boy just raised his hands with an apologetic smile, though, "I-I'm s-s-sorry, Ms. T-Tokiha. It d-d-doesn't w-work that w-w-w-way."

"God _damn it!_"

* * *

**(1) kilogram: notated as kg, 100 lbs (pounds) is about 45.5 kg. In other words, that's one big puppy! And guess what? He's gonna get even bigger. Big enough to ride, you ask? We shall see... :P**

**I hope you liked it! Next chapter: Shizuru and Natsuki's long-awaited night-time meeting. **


	26. Chapter 26

**Salvete, omnes! **

**Ah, here we go! The scene we've all been waiting for! Drum-roll please...**

**Sex.**

**There. I said it. **

**Let's go over the guidelines, shall we? Alright-y then: This is an 'M' rated fic. If you didn't know that already, then I'm sorry. But, I'm warning you now. This fic contains: violence, swearing, and as of this chapter, scenes of a sexual nature. If you are not of age, then this is the part where I urge you to not read any further. **

**You have been warned.**

**Anyway, onto other matters! I'm glad y'all liked Mai's eagle in the last chapter! I've been thinking of names, but haven't been able to choose from a variety of them. I don't think I'll suddenly be reverting to Japanese mythology when this fic has been so Graeco-Roman centric, but it'll definitely still have something to do with fire, since that was Mai's element. That and I vaguely remember reading somewhere that Kagutsuchi has something to do with fire...Hmm. Well, I'll decide on a name soon enough. If anyone wants to make any suggestions, I'm always open to them. **

**Also, I'm going to be updating previous chapters just to correct some of the grammatical / spelling errors I accidentally made in the past. I don't know if FF. net informs you of that, but if it does, I apologise. However, it needs to be done. **

**But, that's not why you're here, is it? No! Y'all are here to read some good old-fashioned smut. So let's get this show on the road, shall we?**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

Natsuki couldn't help it.

She'd tried to resist, she really had.

But in the end, she had finally caved into her desires...

...And gotten another apple.

_What?_ she thought to her other selves, who were looking far too smug for her taste, _They calm me down..._

It was true. Every bite made her feel somehow at peace, bringing her closer to complete relaxations. It was almost as though she were drawing closer, ever closer to the very orchard that had grown the fruit, basking in the dappled shade given as a bounteous gift by the tree with its sprawling limbs. Or perhaps it was another orchard she secretly yearned for. An orchard with golden fruit and a great dragon curling about the tree that bore them. For a fleeting instant, she could almost see it, that distant memory, a memory that pained her so, a sharp jab to her frail heart.

_These memories_...she contemplated, glumly staring down at the half-eaten apple in her hand, _They're not mine...I don't want them. They don't belong to me. I shouldn't have to carry them around with me, weighing on my shoulders, drowning me in a sorrow that is not even my own. _

Regardless, after the little incident down in the dungeons, however, Natsuki thought she deserved at least one more apple that day.

She snarled inwardly, chewing fiercely on the apple as she lay on the bed in her room among the mussed up sheets (she never made her bed; what was the point when she would just mess them up again in a few hours, anyway?), _Those bastards! I should've roasted them alive! _

She had almost done just that, in fact. Had Mai and Shiho not shown up, she would have lashed out, much to the detriment of the soldiers.

_Yea, well...They deserve it..._

She smiled at the memory of Mai's face when Endymion told her that she and the eagle had bonded. The District Officer had been furious. And if Natsuki hadn't known better, she would have thought that she saw a small grin gracing Shiho's usually grim and expressionless features when the two had finally stormed off, Mai still cradling the eagle to her chest. Mai had tried to shake the eagle off, but it had just clung to her arm for all it was worth, digging into her armour with its vice-like claws, making Mai yelp and scold it for ruining the bracers on her forearms.

When Endymion asked her what she was going to name it, Mai had snarled that of course she wasn't going to name it all, dammit! Naming it would only make her attached to it!

At this, Shiho had responded dryly, "Oh yes, we wouldn't want you getting _attached_ to anything like a vampire, now would we?"

Mai had growled wordlessly at her. In return, Shiho had just arched a questioning brow at the Officer. Questioning, but also daring.

Rolling over onto her stomach on the bed, Natsuki chuckled at the memory. Her room was by no stretch of the imagination as large or as lavish as Shizuru's or even Midori's. It was a rectangular room, big enough to fit her queen-sized bed at one end, a squat wooden desk, and a towering cabinet of drawers to house her clothes and impressive lingerie collection which had been imported from Phaesporia in the same mysterious manner that all of her belongings had been imported from her apartment to Phaesporia in the first place. She had a bathroom, but it wasn't much to scream about, and it certainly wasn't anywhere near as nice as Shizuru's. Shizuru's had a bath that was princely enough for Poseidon to feel comfortable in. Her own room didn't feel cramped, so to speak, but it certainly could have been _roomier_. Still, she didn't have to pay rent, so she wasn't complaining.

_Though I really would prefer to go home._

That, unfortunately, was out of the question. She'd brought up the topic with Midori and the Cynthian Leader had flatly refused.

"But..._why_?" Natsuki had whined, standing in front of Midori's glass desk in Parliament.

Midori had not even looked up from her paperwork, "Because I said so."

"That's not a reason!" Natsuki had snapped.

"Sure it is."

That had wrankled, "Well," Natsuki had begun snidely, "What would you do if I left? Hmm? What then?"

"I'd tell Shizuru."

Natsuki had gaped, "You wouldn't dare..."

Olive green eyes had glinted over the top of a manila folder that Midori was scanning, "Are you so sure about that?"

And that, as they say, had been that. Natsuki had stomped out of the room, grumbling and slamming the door behind her. It had been childish, yes, but she had really resented their treatment of her. So, for now, she was stuck here.  
With a sigh, Natsuki stuck the apple in her mouth, holding it in place with her teeth, and rolled over to reach beneath the bed. When she re-emerged, she held a magazine in her hand. Lying on her stomach, she read the lingerie catalogue, bare feet idly swinging above her, propped up by her bent knees. She scratched her ankle with her toe and flipped the pages. It was a new catalogue. She had opened her door that morning and almost tripped on it. Someone, probably a Cynthian soldier, had placed it before her door, right in the hallway where anyone could see it. Blushing furiously, she had snatched it up and hastily looked around to see if anyone had noticed. The halls had been empty, though she still felt embarrassed.

Natsuki nibbled on the apple's core as she turned another page, lazily letting her eyes wander over the magazine and its contents. Green eyes settled on a model wearing a blood-red set of sheer lace. She tilted her head. The model had dark-blonde hair, the same colour as Shizuru's. For a moment, she pictured Shizuru wearing the lingerie instead of the model.

_That's actually...nice...Yea, I think I rather like that...Though that one there would look good on her too...Ooh! But what about -!_  
She started to flip back to some lingerie she had seen just a few pages ago.

And then she realised what she had just thought.

Her eyes slowly widened, horrified. Raising herself from the bed, she hurled the magazine at the far wall. No matter what she did, though, she couldn't get the images out of her head.

_No! Stop! I said stop, dammit!_

She rubbed furiously at her eyes and slapped her cheeks a few time. That didn't seem to work either.

_God damn it._

She glanced over. The digital clock perched atop her dresser read _9:30 PM_. Just thirty minutes until she was supposed to meet with Shizuru. With a sigh, she rolled off the bed, landing on her feet, and trudged over to the bathroom. She needed a long shower. A cold one. But as she stood beneath the brisk downpour, she was consumed with one thought and one thought alone.

_Shizuru...What are you to me?_

* * *

The fire flared in her scarlet gaze, aspirants and rivals for the most searing of entities. Shizuru stood before the crackling fireplace, contemplating its withering depths with her own scorching stare. The flames were the only source of light in the room. The rest gave way to the encroaching shadows, the grasping darkness. Every so often, the burning wood would snap and snarl and toss sparks into the air, sparks that fell to the stone around them and sizzled to a dim nothing. She wore a black silk robe, luxurious and decorated with a hand-stitched scene. It was an autumn vista that burgeoned up the hems, climbing her back and deep sleeves. The bristling trees were caught in the flames of a brilliant October, accentuated by a rushing river roaring through their midst, its surface ablaze with silver foam. Instead of a belt, the robe was tied with a white and gold sash, the ends of which Shizuru played with while she waited.

And waited.

Until the long-awaited knock sounded at her door.

"Come in."

She knew who was outside, and she did not want that person coming into her room now, or ever again.

_No. That's a lie._

She did want that person in her room. But she shouldn't want that person in her room.

_I have to end this, _her mental musings were sorrowful but firm, _This must end tonight. I can not continue in this manner, or I will go mad. _

The door opened and closed again, but the newcomer made no noise nor hailed her in any fashion. Still, she knew who it was. She could tell from the way those feet softly padded across the carpet. She could tell from the scent, as though a brisk waft of fresh air had surged by, leaving everything clean in its wake.

"Good Evening, Natsuki."

The girl merely huffed grumpily in reply.

It took a great deal of strength to not smile.

_Now is not the time to be enjoying yourself, _she was reminded by her infuriatingly rational self, _Now is the time to rid yourself of this trouble, this danger._

And it was a danger. Matters of the heart were always the most formidable, the most deadly. She feared her obsessive nature, feared and respected it. Such things with a power like hers behind it were meant to inspire dread. None knew it better than she.

"We are not going to have a lesson tonight," Shizuru announced, resolute in her decision.

For a moment Natsuki did not answer, "Alright...What are we going to do instead?"

"I am going to talk, and you are going to listen."

"I don't think I like where this is going," the girl grumbled behind her.

_Neither do I, Natsuki. Neither do I._

"Don't worry," she continued, the fire reflected in her eyes, "It will be over quickly. That, I can promise you."

A sigh, and then an impatient, "Well, go on, then."

Shizuru steadied herself with a deep breath.

_This is for the best..._

"We shall not be seeing one another again," she began, her voice flat, expressionless. It took all her effort to keep it steady, firm; she gazed into the flames for strength, "For your protection you will remain in Phaesporia, away from me, until the war subsides, and then you will be free to go on your way. This was a mistake. All of this: a mistake."

_I can not focus with this intermediate indecision of ours, Natsuki. I can not have this doubt, this desire dangling over my head, ready to crush me at any given moment. This is the best way._

_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..._

There followed her short speech a disbelieving silence.

And then the girl said the very last thing she would have expected.

"Th-That's not what I want!"

Shizuru's eyes widened. Had Natsuki really said that?

_No, she could not possibly -_

But before she could doubt herself again, Shizuru felt strong, cool hands grasping her arms and forcibly turning her around. Emerald eyes glared at her and Shizuru felt so small beneath that fierce gaze, like a mouse caught in the stare of a hawk. It was a strange sensation; she had been the predator for so long, she had almost forgotten what it felt like to momentarily live in the skin of the prey. When Natsuki began, her voice was full of frustration, hinted with anger.

"I don't know what's going on in that head of yours, Shizuru, but I'd wish you'd just tell me! First, you want to drain me dry, then you want to get to know me, then you want a bloody lingerie fashion show! Then, without telling me why, you won't even look at me! But then you kiss me, you touch me, and now you push me away? Again?" She shook Shizuru, and Shizuru could only stare, trapped, back into that harsh green gaze, "How am I supposed to understand my feelings for you if you keep pushing me away?" Her voice lowered to a croaking whisper, her slight stammer was an indication of her nerves, "S-Stop pushing me away..."

Shizuru just stood there, struck senseless by the girl's sudden outburst. Before her mind could scramble around fast enough to pick up the pieces of some semblance of an argument or an explanation or even a meaningless word to speak, Natsuki had leaned in, simultaneously jerking Shizuru forward.

_Wh-What is she...?_

It was a simple kiss, hard and short, one that lasted maybe two seconds, and it involved nothing more than the meeting of their lips. When Shizuru was pulled away - Natsuki still held onto her arms, looking up at her, lost and almost pleading - she could barely recall the kiss that acted as a clumsy declaration, or perhaps a question on Natsuki's part. Slowly, in a daze, Shizuru lifted her hand to her lips as if to make sure that they were still there. They tingled with the brief contact. Natsuki's face flushed a deep red at what she had just done and she finally let Shizuru go, arms dropping to her sides, suddenly very interested in the carpet.

_Natsuki...Do you...Do you truly want it...?_

"Uh..." the girl fidgeted, something Shizuru had never seen her do, "I-I have t-t-to go!"

_Could you truly want me too?_

She had taken but one step in the door's direction when Shizuru found her voice, "Natsuki!"

The girl froze but did not turn. Her shoulders were hunched, head ducked as though expecting a blow; she looked like she wanted the floor to rush up and swallow her whole. At first, Shizuru faltered, but her small steps finally brought her in front of the girl. Emerald eyes stared, fixed and immobile, at the ground beneath her feet. She looked like a cornered deer, trembling as a hunter circled ever closer, ever closer.

Shizuru had no idea what to say.

_One thousand years,_ she thought to herself, disbelieving, _One thousand, and still I am so utterly undone. What happened to my years of practiced rhetoric? My eloquent oration that I have so easily utilised in the past?_

_Gone. All of it..._

_And the baseness of humanity makes itself apparent once more...We are so caught up in the whirlwind of our so-called grandeur, our illusory esteem, we often forget that we, too, are ruled by our desires._

_Proof that I am still somewhat human. Somewhat...'Tis so small a thing, so small, so frail, yet I can not help but fan the dying ember to a wistful flame and wish things could have been different..._

_My Natsuki, what have you done to me?_

Shizuru was not even aware that she had spoken when she heard the words, "Natsuki...C-Can I...Can I touch you?"

Those green eyes flickered from side to side, raising only once to anxiously glance up at Shizuru before her blush intensified and she gave a barely discernible nod.

Movements sluggish, Shizuru watched her hand rise in amazement. Her shaking fingertips brushed Natsuki's flaming cheek and she felt all the breath leave her body as the warmth from that simple contact flooded into her hand. She was cupping the girl's cheek now, her crimson gaze following the creeping path of her hand down the girl's neck, to her shoulder, sweeping along the line of her arm. Natsuki did not run. She did not take a step back or jerk herself out of the way. She merely stood there, allowing the innocent touch. It all felt too surreal.

_This must be a dream, _Shizuru's incredulous mind insisted, _Such things are too dulcet to be founded in the fabric of reality._

When had she drawn closer? Shizuru was not sure if Natsuki had moved forward or if she, herself, had done so, but suddenly she looked down to find the girl no more than a hand-breadth away. That smell of sun-drenched earth, of sunsets washing over the land, filled her until she thought she could no longer stand it. Her palm had descended to Natsuki's slender wrist and, unable to hold herself back for another agonising minute, Shizuru planting a lingering kiss to Natsuki's temple. Her other hand rose to slip into Natsuki's hair as Shizuru began to create a trail of soft kisses, increasingly longer in duration, from Natsuki's temple, to her cheek, down her jaw, on the corner of her mouth. When the last landed, the girl turned her head. Their lips met. Shizuru dared not breathe for fear of shattering the dream.

It was not until Natsuki's arms tentatively rose to encircle Shizuru's waist that the Countess gently nudged the girl's mouth open with her tongue for a slow, deep kiss. Shivers ran down the girl's spine and Shizuru's fingers clenched, pulling her in closer. Her right hand, now free, stroked the small of Natsuki's back.

Shizuru sighed into the kiss.

Pulling back, she murmured the girl's name like a sacred title, "Natsuki..."

Natsuki was looking up at her, still so nervous, so unsure of herself, clinging to her as though Shizuru were the only thing keeping her rooted to this earth.

_Like a dream..._Shizuru thought, _Just like a dream._

_Oh, Hypnos, please don't let this be a dream..._

She had to be sure.

"Natsuki..." her tongue felt so thick and lumbering; there was no hint of grace left in her anymore for it had all been dissolved, "Y-You need to..." her voice broke and she swallowed, "You need to tell me if you don't want this."

_Please, don't deny me..._

_I couldn't bear it if you denied me now._

"You need to tell me to st-stop..."

_Tell me to stop. Please stop me now before it's too late._

Natsuki just bit her lower lip at Shizuru's imploring tone. Now she was no longer a hunted hart, she was a stranded puppy, alone and lost in the consuming black of the woods.

"No."

Scarlet eyes widened. Shizuru's breath caught and she looked into Natsuki's eyes, unwilling, pulled in by those swirling emerald seas.  
_O, cruel Night! _Shizuru cursed Nyx, Mother of All, _This was what you planned all along, was it not?_

"Don't stop..."

_I will never forgive you for this..._

"I...I-I want this..."

_I will never forgive you for breaking my heart again, and again, and..._

Before the words could fully leave Natsuki's mouth, Shizuru had claimed those lips for her own once more. A strangled groan worked its way up Shizuru's throat at the sudden need fueling her actions, the suffocating desperation. It propelled her forward, making her push Natsuki onto the nearby bed, driving her to force herself upon the warm body pressed down upon the sheets. She was kissing every square centimeter of revealed skin that she could reach and removing further obstructions as she went. Natsuki gasped, her body jerking and quaking of its own accord at Shizuru's fervid ministrations.

It was only when Shizuru had, somewhere along the line, gotten the girl's shirt off that she paused to admire the view presented to her. The bed had sunk beneath their added weight so that veins extended outwards from the form beneath her. Natsuki's blue-black hair was splayed out on the white linens in streamers of dark silk, almost liquid in texture. Her milky skin was stained a dappled pink beneath the surface until she was aglow, like holding up a piece of fine, Chinese porcelain to the rosy sun. Her eyes were lidded windows to a vista of mist-worn mountains.

_Savour this..._her mind whispered with whatever shreds of sanity she still possessed.

Shizuru ran her hands up Natsuki's sides, reveling in the smooth texture of her skin, counting every ripple and indentation and contour, storing them away for future reference. She did not even know if this would happen again, but her memory filed it away nonetheless.

_This will happen again. I will make sure of it._

She lowered herself atop her and Natsuki's head and shoulders lifted on the elbows to meet her lips halfway. Reaching around Natsuki's upright torso, Shizuru deftly unhooked the forest-green, lacy bra and slid it down the girl's arms only to toss it carelessly aside. Natsuki's hands were tugging urgently at her sash now, panting. She let her flounder with it while she tended to the yielding mounds now bared to her, one fitting perfectly in her palm, the other's neat peak in her mouth, even as she busied a free hand that roamed downwards to Natsuki's pants. By the time Shizuru had unbuttoned the jeans, Natsuki had managed to unravel the white and gold sash and slip her arms up beneath the gaping slit in the cotton material, pulling the Countess to her in a heated embrace.

For a moment, nothing could be heard in the room but the soft sounds of moist kisses, relaxed, even lazy, while they were momentarily supine on the mattress together, parallel. The stillness was punctuated by a needy moan when Shizuru moved away to suck on the hollows of Natsuki's throat, head thrown back, eyes shut. Shizuru took this ample opportunity to roam downwards, leaving a train of light nips and warm kisses as she hooked her fingers beneath Natsuki's jeans and slowly dragged them and the lacy undergarment beneath them from her legs.

Shizuru could not help but admire the slim yet toned muscles of Natsuki's long legs, basking in the leisurely caress of her hands across them. She sat half-naked, dark robe open and hanging loosely from her shoulders, before a sprawled Natsuki, whose piercing green eyes followed her every move with a helpless fascination. Every so often, the girl's breath would hitch when she grazed a particularly responsive area and Shizuru watched her with a mounting arousal.

_Mirabile visu...(1)_

Tossing her hair over one shoulder, Shizuru leaned over her, nudging her legs apart with her own knees. Her mouth found Natsuki's, burning, even as her right hand wandered up Natsuki's thigh in a searing trail of torpid patterns. The girl tensed beneath her when she found the junction of her legs, but Shizuru's nimble fingers soon made Natsuki discard any previous anxieties. Her dark head tossed with a low moan as Shizuru slowly circled the bundle of nerves, pressing and flicking, ever teasing. With each tiny movement, Natsuki's body was assailed by a jolt until she was moving in time with the Countess' rhythm. Gently biting down on Natsuki's chin, Shizuru strayed lower and slipped two fingers into her slick center.

The girl's hips rose to meet her hand as she pushed into her. She began with slow, measured thrusts and Natsuki's body responded perfectly. It were as though the girl were an instrument made to match and be played by her. The throaty moans, the greedy groans, the pants in-between, all were as musical responses to when Shizuru's fingers flickered inside of her, when the palm of her hand repeatedly met the small bundle of nerves, grinding into her, when Shizuru suckled on the velvety skin of her neck and shoulder. Shizuru took her time in raising the girl to more fervent heights, wanting to prolong the endless minutes, the seconds of this scene before her.

Sweat glistened at Natsuki's forehead. Her cheeks were a bright red now. Shizuru heeded her every motion, every reaction, every minute sound with a sort of reverence, as though witnessing something she had never hoped to see in all her wildest dreams.

_How enthralling...This stunning creature has bewitched me._

"Shi-Shizuru!" Natsuki gasped, writhing beneath her.

_And now she is mine..._

"Ah-! Shizuru!"

Natsuki strained as though against invisible bonds, held captive by Shizuru's ministrations. She had been slow to build, but Shizuru could feel the tension in her now, aching to be released. Her body thrashed and wrenched unevenly until, at last, with a drawn-out moan, she spasmed. Shizuru continued even as Natsuki seized as though in her death throes, drawing out the moment until the girl was reduced to weak twitches.

Natsuki was still gasping for breath when Shizuru started to move down her body, grazing her quivering skin with light kisses. Her hand remained within the girl while her other slowly trailed down her inner thigh, pushing her legs wider to admit her lowering torso.

Natsuki, however, stiffened, "Wh-What are you doing?"

Bemused, Shizuru rose slightly and frowned down at the girl, "You could not possibly think that was all?" Her frown cleared to a devilish grin, "I am far from finished..."

"N-No, I m-mean...uh..." she blushed and looked away.

Shizuru's face was covered with a blank mask, "You've done this before."

It was by no means a question.

Still not looking at her, Natsuki nodded shyly.

_Of course she has!_ Shizuru scolded herself for the jealous stirrings in her gut, _She is beautiful and of age, how could you expect her not to have done so?_

Shizuru could not help but ask, "How many times?"

Natsuki swallowed hard past the obstruction in her throat and replied in a small voice, "Just once..."

"Was it...consensual?"

"Y-Yes, but I don't remember much of it," she admitted bashfully, "It was my first college party and...well..."

"Man or woman?" Shizuru asked.

"It was a man."

"Let me guess," Shizuru arched an eyebrow and stated bluntly, "You two did the deed once like a couple of rodents and then it was over."

Natsuki mumbled back, "Actually, he finished before I could..."

Shizuru sighed, shaking her head sadly, "That is unfortunate..." She smiled tenderly down at Natsuki and swooped down to plant a chaste kiss on her lips. The girl's confused look slowly disappeared when Shizuru began speaking, "Know this, Natsuki: I have had many lovers throughout the years. Men and women. Good and bad. Both sexes have their pros and cons, so to speak, but the good ones almost always are those who see to your needs and..._fulfillment,_ as well as their own_._ You are, after all, capable of so much more," Her smile turned into an impish grin and she pressed her body into Natsuki's, earning a sharp intake of breath in response, "Or should I say, so _many_ more?"

"Sh-Shizuru!"

Giggling, Shizuru ignored the girl's rebuke and nibbled on the sensitive spot just below her left ear. She lifted her mouth only enough to whisper, "Strive to retain your restraints," she bit down, hard enough to leave a mark but not enough to draw blood, though enough to earn a startled gasp, "and I will breach your inhibitions at every turn." She soothed the reddened spot with a soft kiss and rose up to give the girl a warm look, "Now is the time to discard your maidenly reservations, my Natsuki. Reticence and insecurity have no place here, between us."

"Hmmph."

"Now, now," Shizuru scolded with mock sobriety, "I'll have none of that attitude in _my_ bed! You'll not harrumph at me here!"

"Says the woman who told me I'd never see her again!" Unexpectedly, Natsuki smirked and retorted, "So you can just try and make me."

With a grin of her own, Shizuru reminded Natsuki of where her hand was still buried inside of her by thrusting her palm forward, evoking a sharp moan, "As you wish..."

* * *

**(1): Mirabile visu: Latin. "Miraculous to see" or "Miraculous to behold". It's particularly amusing to one such as myself since I also used the word "supine" in an earlier passage and "visu" is a supine in Latin. You still see this in English today, along with **_**Mirabile dictu**_**, which means "Miraculous to speak". I'm always so chuffed when I read it in an article in the newspaper or something like that, and I wiggle around in my seat like a pleased puppy, earning stares from the people around me.**

**There. Are y'all happy now? Well, you better be, because in the next few chapters y'all are getting a heavy dosage of plot. Enough to fell a raging herd of hormonal teenagers. So, saddle up, readers! **


	27. Chapter 27

**Salvete, omnes!**

**So, I've decided to be a nice little writer and give you some plot **_**and**_** ShizNat. Now how 'bout **_**them**_** apples? I cleverly disguise the much dreaded plot with ShizNat; a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down, as they say. Alas, this tactic shan't last too much longer, I'm afraid. Next chapter, we're going to have to descend back into Plotland. You know, I have to admit, writing ShizNat goes so much more quickly than writing about, say, Reito and Maria plotting away in Eastern Europe. Geesh! But, then again, I'm not too surprised. I did start this fanfic purely as a story of ShizNat shenanigans without any real regard to plot.**

**Wow. How the times change. O, tempora! O, mores!**

**Somehow, our dearest Marcus "Tully" Cicero always manages to lighten the mood! Unless he's ranting on an on about Cataline, of course. (Though, I do love my Cicero...)**

**But! I digress! To the ShizNat! **

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine. **

* * *

Just a few hours ago, if someone had told her that she would be lounging, naked, in a bath with Natsuki Kruger, she would have laughed. And then she would have fantasised, thinking good and hard of all the possible things she could do in a bath with Natsuki. Then she would have scolded herself for getting herself all worked up for nothing. Sitting on a throne, being hailed by subjects, while becoming hot and bothered was, by no stretch of the imagination, a comfortable situation.

_I think I could stand it now, though_...she mused, withholding a smile.

The girl herself lay across from her in the enormous porcelain tub, head tilted back, eyes closed, resting her neck upon the curved lip of the bath, her dark hair damp and clinging to her shoulders and the tops of her breasts. Greedily, Shizuru took the time to admire every generous curve, every slender flight of pale skin. In the center of the bath their legs met, smooth limbs slightly tangled.

_I could just devour her,_ At this, she did allow herself a smile, _Again..._

Natsuki's stern voice shattered her reverie, "Stop looking at me like that."

Scarlet eyes blinked. How had the girl known? Her eyes were still closed! _Ah...I keep forgetting she can sense her surroundings now. How strange, being with another like this! Being with another like me, and still, so unlike me._

"Looking at you like what, my Natsuki?"

"Like you want to eat me."

Shizuru could not deny herself this opportunity to tease, "I really do not think myself capable of yet another meal of Natsuki," she grinned, running her foot along the girl's outer thigh, "Methinks seven courses is enough, don't you?"

As predicted, Natsuki blushed and, water splashing, she slapped away Shizuru's foot without looking, "You're impossible."

"My, my..." Shizuru murmured, "I think you might just be right. How could I get the number wrong? What was it, then? Eight? I lost count..."

At this, Natsuki raised her head to glare at the Countess before looking away, embarrassed, mumbling something incoherent.

"What was that, Natsuki? You're going to have to speak up." Shizuru reached out with her leg and used her toes to pinch the girl's cute bottom beneath the water. Natsuki yelped and grabbed the offending appendage with a wordless growl. They grappled like this for a few moments, but Shizuru's giggles ceased abruptly when her foot was caught by a strong hand and she saw the girl get _that_ look in her eye.

"Don't you dare!" Shizuru warned in vain.

Insistent fingers went to work on the sensitive soles of her feet and Shizuru thrashed wildly at Natsuki's tickling, "Ah! Na-Natsuki! Stop!" The air of the bathroom was filled with steam and giggles and shrieks of uncontrollable laughter and spluttering. Finally released from her torture, Shizuru's dripping head emerged from beneath the surface of the water. Gasping for breath, she swept her sopping wet hair from her face, "I surrender! I surrender! Show mercy!"

Natsuki just laughed at her. She still held Shizuru's foot in her lap but was now gently running the tips of her fingers across its curved top, circling the delicate ankles. Shizuru relaxed into the sweet caresses with a contented sigh, eyes sliding shut. They basked in the heat, silent.

"It was nine."

Shizuru opened her eyes to peer at the girl, "Hmm?"

Natsuki's face was most definitely red from something other than the warm water. She was far too focused on Shizuru's foot, "I said, it was nine."

"Ah..." Shizuru closed her eyes once more, she bent her foot to brush her toes across Natsuki's flat stomach, "Well...How would you like to make it an even ten?" She queried, mischievous, "I think I worked up an appetite from all that infernal tickling."

"Actually," Natsuki's hands slipped high, fingers gripping Shizuru's calf, "I think I'm feeling a bit peckish myself."

The water stirred and Shizuru opened her eyes to see Natsuki sitting very upright, watching at her with a sharp, intent look. Shizuru smiled.

"Now, _this _is a lesson I've wanted to have with Natsuki for quite some time..." she murmured, spreading her legs to admit Natsuki between them.

Natsuki took the wordless invitation with a grin and waded forward until she was hovering over Shizuru, hands holding her torso up on the sides of the tub. Shizuru watched as the girl's eyes sparkled like the sun's rays glancing off the ocean and she started to lower her body. Shizuru tilted her head up to receive the kiss. It was slow and tender.

_Too slow..._

Natsuki was still keeping her body just out of contact with her own, and that brought boundless frustration on her part. She tried to quicken the progression of things by deepening the kiss and wrapping her legs around Natsuki's waist, but the girl would have none of it. Instead, she pulled back, barely out of reach, and Shizuru bit back an impatient groan. Natsuki shot her an impish smirk before abruptly swooping in to nip at Shizuru's throat.

"The meal," she reprimanded huskily, "Is supposed to be just that: _the meal._"

"My, Natsuki, you do learn fast, don't you?"

The girl chuckled and kissed Shizuru's collar-bone, "I am ever the devoted student."

Her breath caught as Natsuki lightly sucked a spot above her left breast, "And a tease, apparently..."

"Hypocrite."

"Now, now. You can't deny that it's quite nice to be the _teaser_ rather than the _teasee_."

"It's got its perks," the girl leaned up to kiss Shizuru soundly on the lips, effectively silencing her, "Now, _shush_. You talk too much."

Shizuru didn't need to be told twice.

For the next several agonising minutes, Shizuru could not decide whether Natsuki was intentionally going slow in order to be cruel, or if she was simply taking her time because this was her first time reciprocating. She weighed the two proposed ideas back and forth in a set of bronze "Natsuki-Scales" in her mind. One moment, she thought it was the latter when Natsuki noticeably hesitated in fondling her breasts, red-faced. The next moment, however, she was convinced it was the former when the girl slowly raked a rough tongue across her nipple. And again, she had settled back on the latter when Natsuki's hand faltered on its roaming path downwards as it met the junction of her thighs.

_Such a vicious tease..._

Taking pity on her, Shizuru allowed Natsuki to go at the pace of her design. She would have preferred to have been taken with a touch more brazenness, but she supposed that such things would come with time. Natsuki was no spineless milk-maid, after all; she would soon get a grasp on sexual audacity. Besides, there was something marvelous about being subjugated to this cloying agony, as well.

Apparently, that moment of discovery was now.

Still trying to adhere to the girl's set pace, Shizuru could not contain a whimper when Natsuki's fingers suddenly dipped into her and began to move. Emerald eyes watched her reaction, piercing and mesmerised.

Suddenly, Natsuki murmured, still attentively watching Shizuru's every movement, "Didn't you tell me that, as an immortal, I don't have to breathe?"

Shizuru gasped as those fingers continued to work their torturous magic, "What...ah! Wh-What does that have to do with..._uhn-!_ anything...?" she asked breathlessly.

To this, Natsuki merely sighed at her as though in disappointment, "You have no imagination, Shizuru."

And then, with a wicked looking wink, her dark head slipped beneath the water.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Shizuru vaguely realised that her legs were being draped over Natuski's slim shoulders before a sharp cry escaped her and one of her hands shot out of the water to clutch the edge of the tub hard, steadying herself. Water ran down her forearm and dripped from her elbow back into the bath. Of its own accord, her body jerked at every rasp of Natsuki's tongue. With every taut thrash, her ears sank partially beneath the water though her face remained above, momentarily plunging her into a stifled world where the only sound that could be heard was her own harsh breathing.

The slow laps of Natsuki's tongue seemed to take an eternity to turn into rapid flicks, but soon Shizuru was panting, eyes fluttering shut. As soon as Natsuki's fingers rejoined the fray. Shizuru bit her lower lip to fight back the low moan that rose deep in her throat. Her free hand reached out to cradle Natsuki's head, grasping the wafting strands of blue-black hair to hold the girl closer. Small waves now slapped constantly against the porcelain bath and Shizuru's supporting arm slipped back and forth on the lip of the tub in time with her bucking hips.

At this point, she could no more control her movements than she could control her own voice, "Uhn-! N-Natsuki!"

Natsuki's ministrations quickened. Shizuru's toes curled and she felt herself reach that summit at last, wrenching her body with ferocity, sending her into transports of near delirium. Her mind may have been done, but her body, apparently, had other ideas, as did Natsuki. As Natsuki's pace continued just as before, firm and unrelenting, her body responded, too sensitive to ignore such sweet entreaties, until, with a feeble cry, Shizuru felt herself climax again.

When she opened her eyes once more, it was to see Natsuki grinning down at her. The girl's waist was still nestled between her legs and Shizuru's flanks leaped, shivering, at Natsuki's tickling strokes. The girl looked far too pleased with herself for her taste.

"Wipe that smirk off your face."

Natsuki's grin widened, "Make me."

Chuckling, Shizuru stretched languidly, like a content cat. She wrapped her arms around Natsuki's neck and dragged her forward for a soft kiss. When Natsuki pulled away, she was smiling wickedly, "You know, Shizuru, we were supposed to round it all off with an even ten," Heaving a theatrical sigh, she shook her head sadly, "But you decided to go ahead and throw everything out of balance by making it eleven instead. I guess we shall just have to even it all out with fifteen, don't you think?"

Shizuru laughed, pulling the girl in closer for another kiss, "How could I refute such impeccable logic?"

* * *

"Well..." Natsuki was combing her wet hair, wearing her previously discarded shirt and underwear, "I guess...I'll head back to my rooms for the rest of the night."

Shizuru was changing behind her screen, and Natsuki stood before the bathroom door, lit from behind by the dull glow from reflected light. By the time they had finally stepped from the bath, the water had grown lukewarm and the steam in the room had started to fade. Shizuru's gold-stitched towel hung from the end of the screen as she slipped into something more comfortable.

She looked at the girl over the top of the screen, admiring the view, "Whatever for, Natsuki?"

"B-But," the girl began, frowning quizzically at Shizuru who had just emerged from behind her oriental screen wearing a sheer, silky nightgown of deep, royal purple, "It's late. I need to sleep and you told me back in Phaesporia that you can't sleep."

Smiling, Shizuru glided over to her sprawling bed and flipped back the sheets, "I said I _don't_ sleep. That does not mean I don't have the ability to sleep, it just means that I choose not to. Besides," she climbed into the bed and, lying down, patted the space beside her, "I want to cuddle with my Natsuki tonight."

"How could I refute such impeccable logic?" Natsuki replied dryly, crossing the room towards her, flipping off the light-switch as she did so.

"Oh, I could think of a number of ways," Shizuru's grin slowly vanished, however, as Natsuki started to clamber into the bed, "Natsuki..."

"Hmm?" Natsuki flopped down next to her, bouncing once on the mattress before settling in.

"I should warn you..." biting her lip, Shizuru continued, looking imploringly up at Natsuki, "I-I suffer from bad nightmares."

The girl just stared up at her for a moment before bursting into laughter.

"I-It's not funny!" Shizuru exclaimed, simultaneously furious and embarrassed, half sitting up in bed to glare down at her lover.

"No, it's just..." Natsuki stifled her giggles, "It's cute."

"_Cute?_"

Snorting into her hand, Natsuki nodded, still grinning, "Shizuru Viola, The Blood Countess, doesn't sleep because she gets nightmares."

Shizuru's voice lowered to a harsh whisper and she turned her head away, "It's not funny."

At the sudden seriousness of the situation, Natsuki's merriment died, "Hey," she said soothingly, reaching out to rest her hand on Shizuru's arm. The Countess' skin was warm, but when those crimson eyes met her own, they were cold as death. The look on Shizuru's face was that strange combination of tenderness and fear, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have laughed at you." She pulled Shizuru down and planted a kiss on her shoulder, "I'll protect you from the mean old nightmares."

An exasperated noise issued from Shizuru, but she seemed to have calmed down a bit for her muscles relaxed and she snuggled into Natsuki's arms with a sigh, "Such a tease..."

The girl hummed happily in reply and rested her chin on the top of Shizuru's head. Shizuru, herself, took a deep breath and, closing her eyes, descending into the first natural sleep she had had in the past nine hundred years.

* * *

_"Death is a weak, avaricious god who is prey to barter."_

_Shizuru's tear-stained face rose and she stared. A woman stood across from her, an old woman, a peasant woman from the nearby town. She knew this woman. This was the witch, Darvulia. Her long gray hair hung free about her person, lank and unclean, strands clinging to her cheeks and brow, hanging in her eyes._

_"How did you get in here?" Shizuru demanded sharply, scrubbing her face free of tears and rising to her feet, "Get out!"_

_Darvulia merely smiled and held her ground, "Death is a merchant, Countess, and I am a humble patron. You would be wise to hear my offer."_

_The bed sheets still grasped in Shizuru's hands spilled out between her fingers, falling onto the cold, dead body of Nina who lay upon the mattress. Shizuru's eyes narrowed, "Speak." She commanded._

_A chilling smile crossed Darvulia's face._

_The scene shifted. _

_Suddenly she was standing before a great pyre, a raging holocaust upon which Nina's body had been placed. Circles of blood had been drawn in the earth and the flames illuminated the surrounding forest with their sickly yellow cast. Sparks and smoke rose into the night sky, curling among the crescent moon and stars. Shizuru's gaze remained riveted upon the barely discernible body, eyes stinging from the heat and smoke. Darvulia was holding a crumbling book aloft, reading from it and chanting, but Shizuru paid her no attention. She no longer cared about consequences; all she wanted now was Nina. Without Nina, she had nothing left in this world, nothing for which to live. Her husband had died in battle. Her children had died of sickness and disease. Her parents had perished of old age. And now Nina was gone, too. Life without her was not a life worth living. _

_The flames roared, mounting higher and higher. Darvulia's voice grew louder, multiplied, until it sounded as though an unearthly chorus were singing her hellish song. Shizuru felt herself hold out her arm and, in a slash of brilliant bronze, her palm was cut. As the blood seeped from the wound, a great rent tore above the pyre, a parting veil of dark light and cold fire._

_A heat filled her, suffused her, until she felt that she would burst, boil alive. Her eyes burned a stormy scarlet, brighter than the pyre, but still she watched and waited. _

_Until, at last, she saw Nina's body stand amidst the flames, risen from the ashes of death. _

_The scene shifted. _

_Shizuru was beating an unruly slave-girl in her dungeons. She was unnaturally harsh, even cruel. It had been not two days since Nina's revival and she blessed every minute, every second of their time together. Still, there lingered an all-consuming fear that Nina would depart once more, that she would leave her again or somehow be taken from her. The anxiety, the suspicion, the raw frailty of life drove her to a sort of rage, an unyielding madness._

_Drawing back her hand again, panting, Shizuru lashed out with the short whip. The leather broke the skin of the slave-girl's back. A fleck of blood sailed through the air and landed, splotched, on Shizuru's pale cheek._

_In that instant, time froze._

_Eyes wide, Shizuru's nostrils flared. What was that? That luscious scent? She lifted her hand, wiping the blood from her face and staring down at the fluids adorning her fingers. Before she could stop herself, she had taken the fingers into her mouth and licked them clean._

_Her gaze blazed forth, brilliant and dark as a black sun. A sort of frenzy washed over her, compelling her to move forward, to run her tongue along the jagged wound on the slave-girl's back, to caress that slender neck, to revel in the sharp cry of pain that met her ears as she bit down, hard, into the soft flesh of the slave-girl's shoulder._

_The girl's body dropped to the floor and Shizuru turned. Blood stained her front in a wide 'V'. Her breathing came in heavy gasps. She was caught up in the cyclonic whirl of power and pleasure coursing through her, making her entire body tremble, pushing her consciousness into a forgotten corner of her mind that she never knew existed. Expressionless, she glided through the dungeons. Cell by cell, she fed on the prisoners there like some sort of crazed creature spoken of in awed whispers by candlelight._

_The main door to the dungeons squealed open and Shizuru's head shot up to snarl at the intruder._

_Nina._

_The scene shifted._

_Weeping filled the halls of Csejte vára, weeping and all the other sounds of lamentation. Just outside her room, the room she shared with Nina, Shizuru was shaking the skinny, bird-like medic who had just emerged. He looked absolutely terrified in her strong grasp, his feet a few inches from the floor. Shizuru's voice held an icy chill that sent shivers down his spine, "What do you mean, she's dead?"_

_"F-F-Forgive me, Countess," he squeaked, not daring to meet her gaze, "The birth was going so smoothly -! I-I don't know what happened! She j-j-just b-bled out! There was nothing I could do!"_

_"You're lying!" She threw him against the nearby wall and he slumped down to its base, huddled, "She can't be gone!"_

_"Countess, there is still the child," the medic implored, hoping to instill some semblance of tenderness in her heart, "It's a girl. A strong, healthy girl."_

_But Shizuru had not heard him._

_"No..." she mumbled to herself, unable to enter her room or even look past its doors at the scene within, "No, she can't be gone...She can't have left me again..."_

_The scene shifted._

_"You!" Shizuru growled, pointing an accusing finger across the moonlit forest glade where Nina had been brought back to life. The ground still bore scorch marks, "You did this to me!"_

_Darvulia gazed calmly back at her from across the clearing, arms crossed, "I did as you requested. I brought your beloved back from the valley of death, and you paid your price."_

_"That was not part of our agreement!" Shizuru could barely contain her rage. It pumped through her; her hands clenched into fists. She took a threatening step forward, "You will change me back or -!"_

_But Darvulia had but to raise her hand and Shizuru could no longer move a muscle. Darvulia flicked her hand dismissively and Shizuru was hurled across the glade, slamming into a thick tree. The evergreen bristled, dropping dark needles onto the forest floor. _

_Panting, it took all of Shizuru's strength to look up and gasp, "Wh-What are you?"_

_Darvulia's laugh rang throughout the clearing, "Now you ask that? Foolish Keres! Always so hasty!" Her gray eyes gleamed through the gloaming, "I am the Revenant but you, my pet, may call me 'Master'." The witch turned to stride through the woods. Her form was rapidly being consumed by the encroaching darkness. Still, her wizened voice, crackling like dried leaves, floated through the air to reach Shizuru's ears, "Welcome, Keres, to my Carnival."_

* * *

"Shizuru! Shizuru!"

With a great, wrenching cry, Shizuru thrashed in her sleep and finally awoke. Her chest heaved. Sweat dampened her temples and made the silky nightgown stick to her body. Her eyes darted frantically all around. She stiffened.

Darvulia stood in front of the fireplace, smiling that paralyzing smile.

_Welcome to my Carnival._

A strangled noise clawed its way from Shizuru's throat and she scrambled back in the bed.

"Shizuru!"

Something tugged on Shizuru's arm. Looking down wildly, she tried to snatch her arm away. Before she could, however, she felt her head being turned until she was looking into bright green eyes, eyes filled with concern.

"N-Natsuki?" she gasped.

Her eyes darted back to the fireplace.

Darvulia was gone.

"It was a dream, Shizuru," Natsuki stroked her damp cheeks, "It was just a dream."

A shaky breath flushed from her and she squeezed her eyes shut. Sinking back to the bed, Shizuru clung to Natsuki for all she was worth, quivering in the girl's arms, silently thanking the girl's soothing touch as Natsuki gently caressed her back, until a dreamless sleep claimed her at last.

* * *

**Hope y'all liked it!**

**-Kore**


	28. Chapter 28

**Salvete, omnes!**

**Forgive me for the later than usual update. I just finished up summer classes and therefore had a few tests and papers on my hands. Not to mention that my room-mates just returned and we've been actually having this thing called a life. It's...incredible. Indescribable, really. It's been so long since I've experienced that eerie sensation. A life? What is this thing you speak of?**

**In any case, the other reason for my inexcusable tardiness is that I've recently started another fic. Just a little Avatar the Last Airbender business. It's light and fun and I have a fun time writing it. Not that I don't enjoy writing **_**this**_** fic, mind you. It's just that sometimes it's nice to have a little break. **

**Also, Mai's bird finally has a name! Yay! Thank you all for your suggestions. I have weighed my options and made my decision. I hope you like it!**

**In a similar vein of thought, I would like to clarify something. The names of the characters in this 'verse are taken from both Hime and Otome. In general, I prefer the Otome names because they sound more European, and this story takes place in Europe. (Imagine trying to Hungarianify the name Fujino. Blech. What a mess.)**

**But enough of that! Let's get this show on the road, shall we?**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

A painful throb, sharp and insistent, jabbed the tender meat behind Midori's eyes. She barely even noticed it was there, however. She paid no more attention to the headache than she did to the muscle tick around her right eye. She sat at her desk in Parliament, surrounded by papers and files, a closed silver laptop that blinked occasionally at her, and an empty mug of strong black tea. The squat green teapot, a rotund ceramic monstrosity, was perched precariously atop a few stray files. At this point, its contents were lukewarm at best and most likely bitter beyond belief. Midori liked her tea, but she did not like having her taste buds frightened off either. She had been sorely tempted to spike the tea earlier, but had refrained from doing so. Now, though, she was beginning to regret that foolhardy decision.

If anyone were looking at her who did not know her, they would think she was angry. As a matter of fact, that was far from the truth. Elbows propped on the desk, her hands held a slight tremble and she clenched them, leaning her forehead upon the fists with a shaky sigh. She closed her burning eyes. They were rimmed with dark shadows. She had not been sleeping well of late. Then again, she could not remember the last time she had had a decent night's sleep without the aid of copious amounts of alcohol. Normally, she had to drown herself in a state of total inebriation before she could fade off, but that means always had a sticky end for Midori, being human, got horrendous hangovers.

No. Midori was not angry. She was tired. And on edge. These days were harbingers of stress and bad memories. A lethal combination, if applied with the improper dosage. Ever since Viola had awakened, Midori had known no peace. Things were easier without her. Things were easier when it was just the Three Clans: no Blood Countess, no Haruka popping into her room every night to interrogate and otherwise berate her, no Natsuki flailing about with mysterious light-powers. Back then, it had just been herself and the museum and killing the bad guys.

Now, she was no longer sure who "the bad guys" were.

When she had taken Team Actaeon to storm Parliament, she had known there would be losses on both sides. Midori had not been prepared for what would occur, however. None of her men had been killed in Team Actaeon. Only three had perished and two had been injured in the raid, and those three dead had been slain by none other than Natsuki. Midori had heard of what went down in the dungeons when her men had found Natsuki, and had she been there she would have shot them herself.

_What were they thinking?_ She thought, more sad than angry, _My orders were to use force only when absolutely necessary and against those that resisted. Not to start a slaughter!_

Midori may not have been a great fan of vampires, but she was aware that some still had some humanity lingering within them.  
She, of all people, knew that.

After they had moved Cynthian personnel to Parliament, Midori had requested this room for a very specific reason. Every now and then, her gaze would stray and she would find herself staring, lost in thought, at the very spot in the corner to her left where she had mercilessly killed that vampire boy, the one that so resembled her son. Though, at the time, she had shown no hesitation, no mercy, now she was struggling with her actions. For as long as she lived, she would struggle.

It seemed like so long ago that she had been married, that she had once been happy, part of a family. It seemed like so long ago that a group of vampires had staked out her house when she was away one weekend in Wales, visiting her mother. It seemed like so long ago that she had returned home to find her husband's bloodied body on the floor, her son missing. It had seemed like so long ago that she had tracked those vampires down, vampires under the rule of Tate Yuuichi II, the Usurper, only to find that they had Turned her son into a thirteenth generation monster that slavered for human blood, that knew nothing but the thirst, all for their own amusement. It had seemed so long ago that she had been forced to put a bullet in her son's head to keep him from killing her.

He had been seven years old.

And then, with nothing left, she had been found by the Cynthian Company and had gladly joined their ranks. Their leader then had been one Dr. Saeko Kruger, Forensic Anthropologist and Head Curator of the British Museum. Dr. Saeko Kruger, her mentor, her friend. Dr. Saeko Kruger, Artemis before Anh Lu, the Artemis before herself. Dr. Saeko Kruger who had died in childbirth, bled out, having given birth to a healthy girl, a girl with green eyes, a girl whose life Midori had been monitoring from the very moment she was put in an orphanage. Phaesporia was no place to raise a child.

But Natsuki was not a child anymore, was she? Still, Midori was monitoring her every move. Natsuki may have been the child of one of her closest friends, but there was more to Natsuki than met the eye. The Cynthian Company _needed_ Natsuki. The girl may not know it yet, but her role in the events unfolding would be great indeed.

Which brought Midori's thoughts firmly back around to their present situation in Parliament.

Midori had a bad feeling about all of this.

Viola was surprisingly civil, even in this bizarre situation they had somehow landed themselves in. In fact, she was being downright amiable: the perfect hostess, the perfect partner. She met Midori half-way on all their official affairs, willing to compromise, will to see reason, willing to _help_.

_Isn't that what you wanted? Wasn't that the plan all along?_

Yes and no.

Because what Midori really wanted was to go back to her old life, her life before the Cynthian Company, before the vampires, before she knew fear and anguish and despair. She was tired, so tired of everything. And for this, she might as well have wished that the oceans would transform into seas of lollipops for all the good it would do. Dreaming would get her nowhere.

Perhaps what terrified her most was the question of: what would she do if their plan succeeded? What if Viola kept her part of the bargain and destroyed the other two clans? What if she, herself, then cleaned up the rest and vampires would be just a bad nightmare? What then? Would she step down from her position as Artemis? Would she dissolve the Cynthian Company?

_No. There is always need for an Artemis. There is always another Hunt. And another. And another..._

A knock sounded at the door.

Startled, Midori suddenly realised that she had swiveled her chair around and was again staring at the corner where she had killed the vampire boy. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she pushed her chair back around and called out, "Come in."

The door opened and Mai stepped into the room. The District Officer looked just as she always but for the fact that she had strapped on a thick pauldron of leather around her right shoulder. There, her eagle swayed comfortably on her shoulder, talons digging into the leather with ease. Mai had taken to walking around with it wherever she went and by now people had stopped staring. It must have originally been a Golden Eagle, but its colouring had changed drastically since its being Turned for it was unlike any bird of prey that she had ever seen before. It was, for one, enormous, with a wingspan that must have reached five or six feet, but she suspected that that was its original size: eagles were generally quite large. Now, however, it looked more like a phoenix from mythology, what with its rich plumage of glinting reds and golds, not to mention its crimson eyes. Midori merely spared the eagle a glance before turning her attention to Mai.

"I'm sorry," the Officer began, ignoring the eagle as it began to preen through her hair with its wickedly sharp beak, "I looked for Natsuki everywhere but I can't seem to find her."

Artemis leaned back in her chair with a contemplative frown, "Have you asked Viola? She probably knows."

"Yea, I went to her room but the door was locked and nobody answered no matter how much I knocked," Mai shrugged.

Midori held back a devious little grin, "Well, well, well. I think we know where Natsuki is then, don't we?"

For a moment, Mai looked confused. But then is slowly began to dawn on her. Midori felt amusement bubble up inside of her at the many swift changes in expression across Mai's face: confusion, comprehension, horror, anger, embarrassment. At the last one, she could not help but laugh aloud at the fierce blush staining Mai's cheeks.

"Natsuki -! But-! And Viola -! They -!" she spluttered, "Really? Right now? But that's -! So soon!"

"Actually I think it's been a bit delayed in the coming," Midori retorted dryly, unable to keep the grin off her face, "No pun intended."

Outraged at the vulgar joke, Mai reprimanded, "Artemis!"

"Oh, lighten up, Callisto. You have no sense of humour."

"My sense of humour is just fine, thank you!" the Officer snapped, scowling, "I'd just rather not imagine my good friend doing...uh..._those things."_

Midori arched an amused brow, "_Those things?_" she repeated, slightly incredulous.

"You know what I mean..." Mai grumbled.

In a considerably better mood now that Mai was here and had brightened her up with a bit of bawdy humour, Midori kicked up her feet atop the desk and pulled a lollipop from her pocket, "I suppose we'll just have to wait, then," she said as she unraveled the white and pink wrapper and stuck the globular, candied end into her mouth, "Is there anything else you'd like to report?"

"Oh, yea, actually," Mai began, "I was just down in the dungeons looking for Natsuki (I though she'd be down with Duran, you know) and I ran into Endymion. He wanted me to tell you that there's just one unbonded animal left. A Lioness."

Midori rolled the candy from one side of her mouth to the other, "And what does he want me to do about it? I've already sent down all Cynthian personnel to see him."

"Well...not _all_ personnel..." Mai's lilac eyes were very consciously not looking at her.

"You've got to be kidding me."

The Officer raised her hands in defense and took a small step back, "I was just stating a fact!"

Midori glared at her for a good long moment. Finally, she sighed and stood up, "Alright. Fine. Take me to the dungeons."

Mai smiled at and they walked out together, "You know, Midori. I think you'll like it. I admit, I was skeptical at first, but Pro really grew on me."

Frowning, the Cynthian Leader looked over at the shorter woman, who was stroking the glossy red and gold feathers of the eagle, "Pro?" she asked, confused.

"Hmm? Oh! Oh yea, I named him Prometheus. Pro, for short."

"I heard that you were reluctant to name him for fear of forming an attachment."

Mai's face darkened, "Did Shiho tell you that?"

Midori had the nerve to look taken aback, "What? No! Never!"

"Liar."

"How could you accuse me of such a thing? Me!You're beloved mentor!"

"Oh, don't even start with me. It's true and you know it."

Midori just gave a lopsided grin around the lollipop, one cheek slightly puffed up, the white stick poking from her mouth at an odd angle, "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

Their banter continued all through the levels of Parliament until, at last, they reached the dungeons. Endymion was there, in Duran's cell. Apparently it was feeding time, for the boy was carrying in his arms a large bag of clear, thick plastic heavy with blood. There was a black cap at one end of the bag and the two Artemisians walked in just as he was pouring its sloshing contents into a silver bowl on the floor. Duran was waiting impatiently nearby, tail wagging, ears perked in the direction of the food. The wolf was enormous. After only a few days of being properly fed, his broad back easily rose past Midori's waist. If he were standing next to her, she could have rested her arms on him as though he were a large, fuzzy table. Given his gentle disposition, he probably would have just stood there and let her.

"C-C-Come on, b-boy!" Endymion called to the wolf as he stepped back and screwed the cap back on.

Immediately, Duran rushed forward and gracelessly stuck his muzzle into the deep silver bowl, lapping up the blood with gusto. Splashes of blood dotted his fur coat. He was going to require a bath later.

"So m-m-m-messy!" Endymion chided good-naturedly. He turned and saw Midori and Mai standing there, waiting for him, "O-Oh! H-Hello! Forgive m-m-me! I d-didn't s-s-see you."

"Not a problem," Mai smiled at him.

"I s-see you b-b-brought Artemis w-with you," the boy ducked his head in a nervous boy to Midori, "G-G-Good Evening."

"Good Evening," Midori murmured in reply, her tone turning suddenly brisk, fishing the finished lollipop stem from her mouth, "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

"Of c-c-course," Endymion exited Duran's stall, closing the door behind him and gestured further down the hall, "After you, p-p-please."

They stopped before a stall at the very end of the hallway. Endymion turned to her, "N-N-Now, Artemis. B-B-Be c-careful. S-She's a g-g-g-good g-girl, b-but s-she's sk-skittish. D-D-Don't m-m-m-m-make any s-sudden m-m-movements. J-Just t-t-take it s-slow."

At Midori's affirmative nod, he opened the door and motioned for her to go in. Taking a deep breath, she entered.

The cell was dark. She could just make out shapes: straw on the floor, the glinting of the silver bowl where Endymion fed the lioness. In the far corner, she could see two eyes burning a bright red, watching her. Something moved: the lazy flick of a tufted tail, a sweeping shadow. She started forward, her steps smooth and slow. When she was maybe five short paces away, the lioness gave a warning growl and those scarlet eyes narrowed. Midori stopped. Those fangs looked to be almost five centimeters in length. This was not an animal she wanted to anger.

Instead of continuing her approach, Midori bent her legs and sat on the floor. For a few long minutes nothing happened. That tail continued to swish through the air, slapping lightly on the padded cushion upon which the lioness lay. Those searing eyes never left her. Then, the lioness rose from her seat and cautiously padded forward on silent paws the size of dinner plates. Its hulking form slunk forward, head lowered. Its muscles were like coiled serpents beneath a short and supple coat of dappled fur. As the lioness came closer, Midori was surprised to see that instead of the typical beige, this creature had a coat that was white as fresh snow, dappled with rings of soft grey. It was not an albino, however, for she could see that the skin of its nose was black as night, as well as the pads of its feet. It was, if possible, even larger than Duran, and she was sure that both would keep growing.

_Jesus, Mary and Joseph! How big is this thing going to get?_

The lioness circled her. Midori sat perfectly still as it sniffed her, snuffling her long red hair. She felt none too comfortable with its powerful jaws so near her neck, but she did not show it. Finally, the lioness came around to stand before Midori once more and sat on its haunches as if mimicking Midori's position, staring at her. Curious, Midori raised her right hand. The lioness did the same. When she put her hand back down, its paw came down to the ground.

"Interesting..." she murmured. The lioness's round, furry ears twitched at the noise, "Come here."

At the sure command, the lioness prowled forward and stopped just short of touching her before sitting down once more.  
Considering her options, Midori said, "I wonder if I might be permitted to touch you."

The lioness merely blinked at her.

"Well...here goes nothing..." Slowly raising her hand, Midori reached out and placed her hand on its head. Crimson eyes closed and a low rumble of approval issued from deep within the lioness' throat.

"You need a name," Midori began as she gently stroked that broad feline head, "My husband always wanted a little girl named Camilla. I find that name to be appropriate for this situation."

The lioness gave another rumbling purr.

"Excellent. I'm glad we understand one another."

* * *

"You worry too much, Chronos."

The woman named Fumi scowled darkly down at the girl in the wheelchair she was pushing, "And you worry too little, Mother."

"What folly! I worry just the right amount."

They were in the National Gallery of London, surrounded by floods of people. Fumi glared at every person who walked by them too closely but nobody seemed to notice. Currently, Fumi was wheeling her charge, Mashiro, through the galleries, the Baroque gallery, to be exact. They had made their way through more than half of the museum's open galleries so far, though it had taken the better part of the day. Mashiro was a stickler for art, so when they stumbled across a piece she liked, they would stop and she would stare at it for a good fifteen minutes or so, analysing every line, every tone with a critical and appraising eye. Ever since the museum had been opened to the public for free admittance, there were countless people constantly flowing through it, whether to just use the free restroom facilities, or to admire a sculpture by Praxiteles.

"Stop, Chronos," Mashiro suddenly said calmly, "I want to see this one."

Fumi did as she was commanded, turning the wheelchair so that Mashiro could better see the painting. It was a Rembrandt. The small brass plaque read "Belshazzar's Feast c. 1635, Oil on Canvas".

Mashiro's bright green eyes were fixed on the painting, "Exquisite..." she breathed reverently.

"I don't understand how you can be so fascinated by the paltry creations of these humans," Fumi crossed her arms and glowered at the painting as though it had just tried to knife her on the street and rob her of all her possessions (not that any alleged thief would succeed in anything but having his own head removed from his shoulders should he attempt such a foolish task).

"Spoken like a true primordial," Mashiro replied dryly, her sarcasm stinging.

Fumi did not respond to that delicate insult.

It was true, though. She and her fellow primordial deities had little interest in the affairs of human kind. She, herself, was supremely unimpressed by their feeble race. All they had ever done was present themselves as an obstacle, a bother. Even now, she would have preferred for them to be destroyed, completely obliterated, for all the trouble they had caused her and her family. The Mother refused to do so, however, and any endeavor on her own part or the part of her brothers and sisters would end badly for them without the support of the Mother. _They_ were the true children of Night! _They _were the devoted offspring! _They_ _alone_ deserved her love!

"And you have my love," Mashiro broke Fumi's thoughts with a tender murmur, "Never forget that, Chronos."

Fumi hung her head in shame, "Of course, Mother."

They remained there in silence for a few moments during which Mashiro drank in the sight of the Rembrandt, gentle green gaze roaming across its painted surface, admiring the soft strokes, the bold lighting, the expressions of surprise and motion, the overall masterful composition. Finally, with a soft sigh, she said, "Alright. Let us away, Chronos. I grow tired."

"As you wish, Mother," and, feeling immensely relieved to be departing this place, Fumi grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and began to push. She did not like it when Mashiro requested to go outside at any time. Going outside left them too exposed, left the Mother too exposed. If anyone discovered who they were...If that information were to somehow travel to the Revenant..

She did not want to think of such things.

Nobody noticed the two leaving. Nobody even noticed their existence. A man and his teenage son walked right through them and neither Fumi nor Mashiro even batted an eyelash. But as they rounded the corner to leave, they did not see a woman leaning against a corner, studying them. Tomoe Marguerite watched them leave, her grey eyes glinting strangely in the bright, dancing lights of the National Gallery.

* * *

**Hope y'all liked it!**

**-Kore**


	29. Chapter 29

**Salvete, omnes! I hope y'all had a wonderful week. It was my birthday on Aug. 15th and I celebrated by doing exactly what I wanted: lounging around with my room-mates playing Zelda and re-reading George R.R. Martin's newest installment until my eyeballs fell out. My mother called early in the morning and asked what special plans I had for my birthday and when I told her what I intended, she was flabbergasted. You'd think that after 20 years, she'd have figured that I **_**don't like birthday parties.**_** Thank the gods she lives almost 3,000 miles away and I was free to laze about in my boxer shorts.**

**Bliss. Pure, unadulterated, absolute sublimity.**

**I admit, that day I killed a few twilight creatures as Link in the name of Napoleon and then proceeded to eat unhealthily in honour of Natsuki since it was all of our birthdays. Fun Fact(s): Aug. 15th is also the day that Macbeth killed Duncan then died exactly a year later. It's also the day of the Japanese festival **_**Obon**_**. Oh! And apparently the tarot card for Aug 15th is The Devil. Soooo...Does that mean I, and all others born on that day, are but pawns in the nefarious scheme to summon forth the anti-christ who will rule the realms with an iron fist of wrought flame? Or have I just been writing/reading too much fantasy?**

**But enough of that! I have some wonderful ShizNat for y'all as well as some more plot and character development! I told y'all that the last chapter wouldn't have any ShizNat and still I got a few grumbles on the subject. I hope this alleviates your withdrawal symptoms :P**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine**

* * *

When Natsuki awoke, it was to the soft sounds of Shizuru's breathing. her arm was wrapped comfortably around the woman's waist, her body pressed tightly to her, her nose buried in the back of her neck, their legs loosely tangled together. So, too, was Shizuru's hair slightly tangled from sleep, yet still so ephemerally soft. Emerald eyes slowly opened, blinking blearily to take in the scene. Natsuki was, in no way, surprised to find herself here. In fact, the first thing she did was give a sleepy smile and burrow her body further into Shizuru's with a good amount of contented wiggling, like a dog snuggling into a blanket. Shizuru did not seem to mind, however, for she merely gave a happy sigh and continued snoozing away.

After a minute or two of drifting between the realm of sleep and waking, Natsuki's hand that was draped around Shizuru started to move seemingly of its own accord, lightly caressing the Countess' stomach through her silk lavender nightgown. It slid back, gliding smoothly back and forth, lazily, over the swell of Shizuru's hip. Feeling foiled by the fabric, it slipped beneath the short hem and finally made contact with skin. Natsuki gave a pleased hum at the delectable contact and allowed her fingers to ghost over the warm skin in intimate exploration.

Had she really been afraid of this? It seemed not so long ago that she was terrified of being in the same room as Shizuru, and now here she was in bed with her feeling completely at ease. She did not know how this had happened. Not really. She remembered a sort of desperation clutching at her when she had heard Shizuru inform her that they would no longer be seeing one another. It had been a type of fear that had made her act then. Even now, she could not quite give it a name. Had it been fear of loneliness? That sounded a bit off, though it was probably the nearest thing to it. Before, she had had Mai but not much else. She was an orphan, and the only set of foster parents she had ever truly cared for and who had cared for her well-being had died a few years back.

Natsuki could remember living on a farm in Cheshire with the elderly Irish couple so many years ago. They had been the fourth family she had been with, and at that time in her life, at the ripe age of thirteen, she had been as recalcitrant and unruly as ever. If people thought her a delinquent now, they should have seen her then. She still had that god-awful stammer which had proved itself to be the greatest obstacle in her life until just recently (for now she viewed this whole ridiculous "nymph-of-the-sunset" business to be the most daunting, Herculean feat placed before her to date). Mary and Michael Moore had been patient people, however, and after a few months, they had finally succeeded in breaking through that otherwise unbreachable bulwark Natsuki always constructed around herself as a defense mechanism. Michael had taught her about animals, sheep mainly, and for the first year they had an old Irish Wolf-Hound by the name of Merlin whose main occupation was to curl up before the perpetually burning fireplace and soak up the heat into his old and feeble bones.

Natsuki could remember the nights there, the smell of recent rain seeping in through the old windows. She would use Merlin as a prop for her back when she lay on the floor, a book in her hands (usually something by Charles Dickens), reading aloud to Mary who knitted away on her creaking, ancient rocking chair and Michael who would be completely absorbed in the nightly task of cleaning his impressive collection of antique firearms, polishing and polishing and polishing with that same dirty old rag, raising the muzzles to admire their gleam in the firelight.

Mary had tutored her past her speech impediment so that she only stammered when particularly nervous or otherwise flustered. Michael had instructed her in the way of guns and other weaponry. After two years, by far the best two years of her life, they had had to give Natsuki up due to the fact that they could not afford to support her economically speaking, for the farm had hit a rut in the road so to speak, and the fact that they were becoming too old to handle such an energetic young girl. She could recall the day when Michael had taken his first fall in the fields and busted his hip on a rock jutting from the green hillside. It was soon after that incident, when Michael had been confined to a wheelchair, that Natsuki had been informed she would be returning to the orphanage to await another set of guardians, ones more capable of supporting her.

At this news, Natsuki had run away, taking refuge in the wandering hills nearby for a good few days, nearly scaring Mary to death with her prolonged absence. Michael had given her a fine tongue-lashing for such inappropriate behavior. That, in Natsuki's mind, had been the pinnacle of their relationship, for it was then that she had finally understood that they actually cared for her. Nobody had ever loved her before that. Not really. And if they had, they had never proven it. But during that most memorable scolding, Natsuki had seen the anxiety in their eyes, the all-consuming fear that had eaten away at their bellies, the fear of loosing her.

The day the social workers had come to take her away, to take her back to that hated London orphanage, was the worst in her life. She could not remember crying harder than she had that night, back amongst the shrieking hordes of pestering children and the silently judging nuns that watched their every action from behind pillars and the corners of corridors.

And then there was the other, unavoidable facade of her fear. The other part of her fear was that she was no longer human. Who else could possibly accept her for what she was: some freak of nature? Who else would not try to manipulate her, use her, examine her, kill her, even worship her?

That last thought made her shudder slightly. Natsuki was sure that there were people out

there who, if they were to discover her true nature, would try to worship her should she let them, or even were she to deny them that right. Quite frankly, that thought disgusted and disturbed her. She may house the spirit of a god within her, but that did not make her a thing of temples and cults.

On the other hand, Shizuru had not even stuttered when she discovered what Natsuki was. But, then again, why would she? Shizuru was in the same position. Somehow, she felt that Shizuru could see through every facade she used to keep people away from her. The only times Natsuki could feel comfortable around others was through that distance. And yet, Shizuru had sailed easily across that wide expanse, dismissively flicking aside any obstacles Natsuki raised to keep her away, even more easily than Mary and Michael had. Originally, Natsuki thought that such intimacy would be terrifying, and, in all truthfulness, getting to this point was quite scary. She did not like having her defenses slowly stripped away bit by bit, not in the slightest. Now that she was here, however, now that she had finally made it...She could not think of any other place she would rather be.

Her touch grew more firm and as she brushed her lips across the base of Shizuru's neck, she heard the Countess murmur appreciatively in her sleep. This was the other thing Natsuki had not been expecting to enjoy as much as she did. The idea of sex had always seemed so separate. She had sequestered herself from any such physical attachments to people for as long as she could remember. That wasn't to say that she had no libido to speak of. Far from it. She had just never indulged in that area of herself. She had never really given any thought to what gender she preferred. Sure, she could appreciate beauty and found both men and women to have their specific qualities that made them appealing to the appraising eye, but she had never dwelled on the matter much. It had just never concerned her.

Now, though, she had certainly gone through another 'awakening' of sorts.

To say that Shizuru was an exceptional lover was, in her mind, a bit of an understatement. Natsuki may have had little to no experience in the affairs of sex and human sexuality, but that did not mean she could not tell what was good. Last night and well into the early hours of this morning had been good. Really good. Really, really -

_Pervert_, she silently reprimanded herself when she felt her body temperature rise from just thinking about the events of a few hours ago.

That half-hearted admonishment did not keep her from becoming more daring with her touches in the slightest. Natsuki could never imagined that such audacity in these matters resided within her and yet now her hand was drifting down Shizuru's smooth upper thighs, rising back up to circle the dimples at the small of her back, then to count the notches of her spine. She could not hold back a shiver as Shizuru's breath hitched. Red eyes fluttered as Shizuru stirred. Seeing this, Natsuki lightly nibbled on the lobe of Shizuru's ear and her hand drifted over the silken rise of a shoulder.

Shizuru rolled over to meet Natsuki's mouth with her own and the girl eagerly acquiesced to the gesture. Natsuki just could not get over the soaring sensation of kissing Shizuru this way. The Countess' lips silently urged Natsuki to be bolder and so it was only doing as asked when she planted a knee on either side of Shizuru's waist, effectively mounting her while never breaking their kiss.

"Mmm..." Shizuru let loose a low moan before breaking off the kiss and finally opening her eyes to smile up at Natsuki, "I like being woken up in this manner."

Natsuki grinned and traced Shizuru's cheekbone with the tip of her nose, "Then I have Your Majesty's permission to rouse you like this every day?"

"_Rouse_. How apt," Shizuru teased, "and good heavens! 'Majesty'? I'm a Countess not a monarch!"

A theatrical groan escaped Natsuki, "It's too early for puns!" she whined.

"But not to early for _rousing_, I take it?"

At this, Natsuki could not help but chuckle, "It's never to early for rousing."

Shizuru's hips jerked as the girl atop her tickled her sensitive sides with those softly stroking hands, "Devoted student, indeed!"

Pausing between nipping at Shizuru's pale collarbone, Natsuki said jokingly, "You have taught your young _padawan_ well."

A frown of confusion creased Shizuru's brow, "Padawan?" she repeated.

Natsuki realised her mistake in making such a modern reference, "Oh, sorry. It's from _Star Wars_..." and, seeing the bemused expression on her lover's face, she just shook her head and busied herself once more with Shizuru's body, "Forget about it."

That last command was soon followed through with, for Shizuru could think of nothing else but the girl's touch. Natsuki had to admit, she did indeed rather enjoy this whole teasing business. She licked and kissed, nibbled and sucked, gracing the Countess' endless curves with her hands, using her dark curtain of hair to tickle while her lips roamed. It was not long until she had Shizuru writhing beneath her, imploring with pleading moans, emphasising pleasurable places with sharp gasps and whimpers of delight. Natsuki had not removed the nightgown, leaving it rumpled at the base of Shizuru's breasts as she watched and listened to the many movements and sounds of Shizuru Viola with a shameless avarice. Nearing that fulfilling peak, Shizuru's arms wrapped around Natsuki's shoulders and pulled her forward to muffle her gasps in the sweet-smelling flesh of the girl's neck.

That turned out to be a mistake.

Natsuki did not think much of it when she felt a hard nip on her neck and when the Countess, hips still bucking, drew a deep shuddering breath. It was not until she felt a sharp pain there a moment later that she drew away slightly in bewilderment, "Ouch! What the -?"

Suddenly, she was thrown against the heavy wooden headboard of the bed and found herself staring up into scarlet eyes that burned with a wild, frenzied light. The rest of Shizuru's face was a blank mask, terrible to behold. The Countess slowly lowered her head and nuzzled at Natsuki's neck, keening like a lost kitten in the rain. It was just like that moment in the supply closet at Natsuki's work. Her hands were clamped painfully down on Natsuki's shoulders and though the girl knew that they were equals in strength, all of her limited experience as a newly realised immortal had fled, leaving her utterly defenseless. She lay there, frozen in a pit of her own fear, when she realised something that sent her mind reeling.

Shizuru was more afraid than she was.

Natsuki understood that that did not make sense at a certain level, but she knew it to be true. Shizuru's body was quivering even as it continued grinding mindlessly against her own. Piteous whines issued from Shizuru's mouth between hot-breathed pants and Natsuki could feel those keen fangs poised above the thin flesh of her throat. Shizuru was lost, lost in a part of herself Natsuki could not even begin to fathom. She had no doubts that in any other situation, with any other person, the Countess would not have faltered in taking what she wanted, in draining the victim of her dark desires dry, sucking out the marrows and tossing the bones aside with no regard to their humanity. Yet here she was, trying to restrain herself, near sobbing from the struggle, unable to deny her excruciating insatiability.

Not knowing what on earth she was doing, Natsuki slowly lifted her hands and tenderly placed one on the small of Shizuru's back, the other digging into honeyed locks, holding her head closer. The Countess gave a faint mewl in complaint, trying to pull away, but at the same time she breathed in deeply through her nose, taking in the girl's intoxicating scent. Natsuki simply held her as she battled internal demons before she could resist the overpowering allure of such a temptation as this.

A brief hiss of pain escaped Natsuki as the Countess finally gave in to her voracious cravings and, as gently as she could, sank her fangs into the girl's neck. Natsuki cringed, expecting the pain to linger, but her flinches were for naught, it seemed, as Shizuru pulled back immediately after she had broken the skin and began to draw the pooling blood into her mouth. Shizuru's hips jutted forward reflexively as she took that first taste since the incident in the supply closet. A long, drawn out moan accompanied her actions and shudders ran through the Countess' body as she sucked at the spot on the girl's neck until Shizuru's entire figure went taut and she gave a great cry of release.

Natsuki blinked in surprise, _That's it?_ she wondered, _I thought there would be more...blood. And pain. It just felt like getting a vaccine and a hickey. Not that it was enjoyable, just...not as bad as I originally imagined. _

For a few long moments, Shizuru lay panting in her arms, utterly spent. When conscious thought eventually returned, animating her limbs, her head shot up and she scrambled back, a hand rising to hide her bloodied mouth and chin, crimson eyes wide. Panic and horror at her actions lit up her gaze and what Natsuki could see of her face. Were these the emotions, the expressions Shizuru had been hiding when something similar had occurred in the supply closet?

Shizuru began to babble, "I-I'm so sorry! I didn't -! I swear I didn't -!" she wiped frantically at the blood on her face, stammering, "I-I-I..._Ignoscas mihi!_" in her agitation she reverted back to Latin, "_Ignoscas mihi..._" she whispered, lowering her head in shame. (1)

"Shizuru," Natsuki began calmly though she still felt a bit shaken, "It's alright...I'm fine. See?"

When Natsuki leaned forward, reaching her hands out, Shizuru jerked away with a snarl. _Isn't that supposed to be my reaction?_ Natsuki thought, perplexed.

"D-Don't come near me!" the Countess hissed, backing further away until she was perched upon the very edge of the bed like a nervous animal, a very dangerous, nervous animal.

"Shizuru..."

"No!" she all but screamed, covering her face with her hands, "Leave me! Just-! Just leave me!"

At this, Natsuki became irritated, "Oh, for fuck's sake!" she snapped, "Not this again!" and, darting forward, she snatched the Countess' wrists and peeled her hands away from her face, "Shizuru! _Look at me!_"

It took a few long seconds for Shizuru to calm down enough for her eyes to flicker apprehensively up to Natsuki's own, but they cast their sight elsewhere immediately afterwards as though fearful of seeing Natsuki's reaction. She had never looked so distressed, so demure. It did not suit her. Shizuru Viola did not _cower_.

"God damn it, Shizuru!" the dark-haired girl growled, "I said look at me!"

When that crimson gaze finally met her own, it was riddled with unspoken pleas, broken begging. _Don't hate me_, her eyes seemed to say, _Please, dear God, please don't hate me. I couldn't stand it if you hated me._

Sighing, Natsuki stated firmly, "I'm not angry. It was an accident. You didn't mean for that to happen. You couldn't help yourself. I understand. And I'm fine," she added with a flashing glare for good effect, "I'm _fine_. And I'm sure as hell not going anywhere."

After the short speech, Shizuru just sat there looking completely stricken. She did not look away though, and Natsuki waited, waited for an eternity, it seemed, for the Countess' body to relax even though that anguished expression never truly left her countenance. It remained, lingering in her eyes where shadows danced with the dark, scarlet light. Finally, she spoke, her voice calmer, though still faintly haunted, "Natsuki should not be so nice to me."

"_Natsuki_ will do as she likes," the girl retorted dryly, fain to continue holding Shizuru's wrists, even going so far as to allow her hands to drift downwards so that their fingers could intertwine, "and _Natsuki_ will also do this," swiftly, she reached up and flicked the Countess squarely between her startled eyes, "because Shizuru was a total ass and deserves it."

Shizuru just gaped at her.

Natsuki couldn't help but chortle, though she knew she shouldn't under the present circumstances, "Honestly, it didn't even hurt much. I was just surprised, is all," she then proceeded to flop onto her back.

"N-Natsuki is not angry with me?" Shizuru asked incredulously.

"Well..." the girl grumbled, arms splayed gracelessly to the sides as she studied the dark, bruised curtains overhead, "Let's not make a daily habit of it, alright?"

Suddenly, she cursed and slapped at her neck, sitting up to look at the bed, "Shit! I think I stained the sheets!"

When she looked up, she saw Shizuru biting her lip, fiddling nervously with the hem of her nightgown which now hung, pooled about her thighs. Smiling softly and in a way she hoped was soothing, Natsuki held out her hand and ordered, "Come here."

Still hesitant, which Natsuki thought strangely endearing at this time, Shizuru took the outstretched hand and was pulled flat onto the bed where she found herself wrapped up in a warm hug. Of its own accord, her body tensed, but Natsuki soon dissolved such anxiety with hushed murmurs into her hair and tender patterns drawn onto her back with pacific fingers. At first, Shizuru was reluctant to rest her forehead on the girl's shoulder, but eventually her eyes slid shut and she soon found that she was beginning to doze off, seduced to sleep by this guileless deity of an eternal sunset.

* * *

**(1) Ignoscas mihi: Latin. Loose translation is "Forgive me". The Romans didn't really have a way of saying "I'm sorry" just like they didn't really have a way of saying "yes" or "no". Normally, one would think to see the word "ignosco, ignoscere, ignovi, ignotum" in the singular imperative in this case, that being "ignosce". However, another common form that would have been used in Classical Latin is "ignoscas" which is the second person singular present active subjunctive as a jussive. So a more literal translation of ignoscas mihi would be "May you be forgiving to me." It sounds a bit awkward in English, and overall it's rather uncommon because those dirty, peasant **_**Church Latin **_**speakers tend to disregard this form and stick to "dimitte mihi" (note my overt scorn when I say the words 'Church Latin'. **_**Note it!**_**). Using the word "dimitto, dimittere" never made much sense to me, as it means more on the lines of "to send away" or "to abandon" or if you want to get really literal, "to dismiss" (dimitto, dimittere, dimisi, dimissus. Look at that last principle part: dimissus. If that doesn't look like "dismiss" then my name is Francois Rabelais). 16th century French satirists aside, I prefer ignoscas mihi, which is why I used it even though Shizuru, as a noblewoman raised on the Vulgate (*shudders*), would have probably used dimitte mihi. To the devil with that notion!**

**Hope you liked it!**

**-Kore**


	30. Chapter 30

** So, I tried being all clever and funny in this chapter with some good old math humour. It worked perfectly in my google docs when I had to create the equations, and it looks really sharp there. Unfortunately, when I was forced to transfer the text from my google docs to a Microsoft word file in order to upload this chapter onto the fanfic site, it didn't translate quite as well as I'd originally hoped. Ergo, I was forced to write out the equations in long form, which is a pain. It also doesn't look as nearly as funny, in my opinion. Then again, I was having far too much fun adding integrals and summations. **

** I'm not much of a math person. To be absolutely truthful, I hated math in school. I celebrated upon completing the last mandatory math class of my life, which was during my freshman year of college. However, I can appreciate math and I understand it to some extent, so math humour is definitely on my list of "things-I-find-amusing". Also included on that list are "bad puns" and "historically insignificant and most assuredly irrelevant facts". An example of the latter would be that I chuckle whenever I hear the word "charioteer" in close or even distant association with the word "gay" because of the events that occurred in AD 390 surrounding the Slaughter of Thessalonica, in which all sorts of political and social shenanigans went down because one popular and overtly homosexual charioteer (whom I like to refer to as Nuntius Lepidus, har har) made inappropriate sexual advances on someone. I like to think it was the soldier, Butheric, since that just tickles my fancy, however I've heard tale that it was someone else. **

** What did I tell you? Completely irrelevant and insignificant, yet I get a good solid kick out of it every time. **

** Anyway…**

** Enjoy!**

** Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

The elevator whirred as it descended through the dark, damp earth, surrounded by a chute of sheathed metal. the lights within it burned softly, an almost grayish hue that blanched out the occupants. Midori and Shizuru stood side by side, staring at the door, waiting for it to open. An enormous lioness was the only thing separating them, calmly sitting back on its haunches, tail flicking lazily as they rushed downwards. Shizuru found it odd that in her limited experience, people generally did not like speaking in these transportation contraptions, especially in large groups. Apparently it was considered impolite to speak when accompanied by others in an elevator, and everyone therefore occupied themselves with the arduous and enthralling task of eyeing the door and trying not to make eye-contact of any variety as though afraid of catching some venereal disease passed by the innocuous meeting of gazes across the enclosed space.

In such a way Midori and Shizuru rode the elevator, and in truth Shizuru did not mind in the slightest. It presented itself as an excellent opportunity for her to think. They had left Parliament in the early afternoon. Shizuru could recall quite clearly waking up in Natsuki's arms after their little mishap an hour previous. The girl had been fast asleep when Shizuru studied her, red, guilt-ridden eyes lingering on the wound at her neck. The bite mark had already started to heal, and she was sure it would not scar, but Natsuki would have to bear it for a few days before it fully healed. Not long after, Natsuki had stirred and Shizuru had done her best to act as though nothing had happened. The girl certainly did a good job at forgetting what had occurred. In fact, the most she had done was grumble about it while standing before one of the enormous mirrors in the bathroom, wondering aloud how she would cover it up so that nobody would notice. And would it be odd if she wore a scarf?

At that, Shizuru had choked back a sound that was half laughter, half sob.

_She should be trying to ward me off with crosses at this point!_ she thought to herself, _Not standing near naked in my bathroom, engaged in casual conversation!_

Instead, the dark-haired girl had washed up, gotten dressed and given her a swift peck to the lips before heading out for a late breakfast. Shizuru had still been sitting among the rumpled bedsheets, loath to leave their warmth and their captured smell of Natsuki, one leg draped over the side of the tall mattress as she simply watched Natsuki finish her morning business. Natsuki had promised to come back later in the night and Shizuru would be lying if she claimed she was not looking forward to it.

Looking forward to it? Perhaps that was a bit of an understatement. She wanted to return to Parliament immediately and drag the girl back into bed to be ravished for the remainder of the day. And the next day.

Yet, more than a hint of hesitance remained where Natsuki was now concerned. Could Shizuru let herself go knowing that she could, at any moment, suddenly lose control again and regard Natsuki as a source of savoury?

_She said she wasn't angry with me_, Shizuru reasoned with herself, though the next thought that came was dark, _She should be...I-I violated her. Not just her body, but her trust._

Where the girl had not been fazed in the slightest, Shizuru was still reeling from the events of that very morning.

_I can not lose control. I will not lose control! Not again._

The elevator emitted a noise like a muted bell and the steel doors slid open. Shizuru gestured for Midori to follow her as they stepped out into one of the barracks of House Árpádok. Deep into the ground, the barracks extended. It was an enormous dome like structure, poorly lit, that consisted purely of training grounds and carefully organised weaponry and, as of now, rows upon rows upon rows of soldiers standing at attention, awaiting their Mistress' arrival and appraisal. Their eyes all glowed crimson through the gloom, shining like a thousand necrotic candles assembled in some black magic ceremony.

Shizuru glided, pacing, before their ranks, trailed closely by Midori who was wearing her white suit, accompanied by her hulking lion companion, Camilla. She took in the soldiers' sharp appearances, from their blue and black uniforms bearing the insignia of House Árpádok on their left shoulders, to their carefully manicured hair which was kept so short as to barely graze their shiny scalps beneath smart looking caps. Their uniforms looked like they were issued by the Prussian military from the mid 19th century, what with the high, stiff collars of their simple tunics down which a single row of tiny brass buttons ran, and the pants tucked neatly into thick-soled, leather boots that extended up to the knees. Even the gloves were there, made of a tough, black synthetic material.

Stopping before their officer, who stood at the very fore of their ranks, Shizuru said, "At ease, gentlemen," her voice was soft, yet it carried.

With a single expert movement, the soldiers moved as one into a more relaxed stance, their feet spread farther out, their hands folded behind their backs, staring straight ahead.

Shizuru was unimpressed. Should she wish it, she could have torn this group of rag-tag boy-scouts to shreds. Granted, Reito and Maria weren't _her_, but they were a far cry from this bunch of so-called 'soldiers'.

"Commander," the Countess began, glaring coldly down at the officer a few steps in front of her, "My associate and I would like a demonstration of this regiment's abilities."

"Mistress," he saluted sharply and turned to bark orders at his men.

* * *

Natsuki had a dilemma.

Freshly showered, she was in her room, standing before her closed door. She had been unable to find anything suitable to wear that could cover the bite on her neck. She had her biking leathers with their high collar, but she couldn't stroll about Parliament wearing _those_, now could she? Neither was she one to wear polo shirts or turtlenecks. Or scarves, for that matter. Before, she thought she might have a scarf somewhere among her arsenal of clothes, but apparently she was mistaken. Ergo, she had donned a hoodie and crumpled the hood to cover her neck as best it could. Still, it wasn't enough. Every time she moved, the hood shifted also. She could dimly remember throwing away a perfectly good scarf about a year ago and now she cursed her foolishness. How was she supposed to have known that she would need a scarf to cover up the bite marks received from her vampiric girlfriend during a heated bout of lovemaking?

Natsuki paused then in her ruminating.

_Girlfriend?_ she questioned herself, _Where had that word come from?_

She supposed they were, undeniably, in a relationship. The problem was, Natsuki had absolutely no idea what sort of relationship it was. They had been friends before.

Well...sort of...

She would not go so far to call them "friends", though they certainly had been _friendly_ with one another before this whole sex business.

Which brought dear Ms. Kruger to her next dilemma.

Sex was like the fuck-up variable in the friendship equation.

If "friend" is "f" and "sex" is "s" and "a good time" is "t" and "long-term, stable relationship" is "r", then f(t)+s does not equal r. Alternatively, if "girlfriend" is "g", then the summation of s+t over r = fΔg. Moreover, g= the integral of t over r multiplied by f(s), which meant that their relationship was in definite need of a new name by which she could call it. (1)

And that right there was _exactly_ why Natsuki did not like muddling up her thoughts with twisty, over-complicated relationships. She liked her friends as friends, and her sexual partners as sexual partners (though, in her case, if "sexual partners" is "p" and "Natsuki" is "n", then n+p is less than or equal to 2, so she really did not have much to work off of, much to her chagrin).

The overall truth was: Natsuki had no god damned clue what to think about herself and Shizuru together. She wanted Shizuru physically. Oh God, did she ever want Shizuru physically. What really bothered her, though, was where this was all going.  
They were in a war. People could and would die. Hell, people have been dying because of this secret war between humans and vampires, not to mention vampires and vampires, for centuries now. Once this whole war thing finished, what would happen to her. More, what would happen to Shizuru? Natsuki was sure that Midori and Mai would do their damndest to kill the Countess given half the chance, and that was the last thing she wanted. But what would she do if the Cynthian Company tried to harm Shizuru? Would she immediately be seen as on Shizuru's side now that they were lovers? Would she be forced to choose? Would she choose Shizuru?

She felt that she hadn't known the enigmatic Countess long enough to be making these sorts of decisions so soon, let alone thinking about them, yet something told her that the time would come when she would have to make a choice. Natsuki had no idea what that choice would be, but she knew it was coming, and it was coming much too quickly for her comfort.

With a defeated sigh, the dark-haired girl opened the door to her room and stepped out into the hallway. Natsuki supposed she could have teleported herself to the dining hall and back in the blink of an eye, but that required a certain peace of mind that she lacked at the moment. Besides, she did not want to accidentally teleport herself inside a wall or, worse yet, inside another person. A shudder ran through her at the thought.

Looking around, she surreptitiously adjusted the lip of her hood before hunching her shoulders and walking down the hall with her hands jammed into the pockets of her light blue sweatshirt. Her black boots slapped against the floor in a jarringly rebellious way; some things would never change, and Natsuki's rather recalcitrant exterior was one of them. Of course, people like Shizuru were allowed to see past all that, but the majority of the world received the cold shoulder from this notorious 'ice maiden', as many throughout the years had called her behind her back. She knew that they called her that, but it only made her scoff dismissively and toss her long hair in a manner that could only be described as haughty.

A sizable group of Cynthian personnel passed by together, but none of them took much notice of Natsuki. That made her glad. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention to herself, and so far all was well. So when she came across another smaller troupe of soldiers, she thought that something similar would happen and therefore did not give them much thought.

She was wrong, however.

"Fancy seein' you here, love."

At the sound of that naggingly familiar Cockney accent, Natsuki froze. When she turned, she confirmed who the speaker was and she bit back an impatient groan.

_Oh God...Not these assholes again. Karma is not on my side today, it seems._

"Yes," she retorted dryly with a roll of her eyes, "Imagine seeing me here. I only live here now."

_Much as I hate it..._she added silently.

The leader of the small group of soldiers, the same one who had heckled Endymion in the dungeons just the other day, leered at her, "I wouldn't be so cocky if I was you," his eyes roved all over her, filling her with the overpowering urge to bathe, "Artemis and Callisto ain't here today to save ya."

Natsuki felt her figurative hackles rise along with the sweeping power of Hespera. It took a great deal of her strength not to let her aura slip from her skin in her anger. Even so, there was a luminous quality that came to her skin and eyes that the soldiers did not notice.

_This isn't good._

She smiled at them, "What a pity. For you."

He and his three other soldier cronies approached. He remained directly in front of her, but the others slowly began to flank her, circling like vultures. Green eyes flashed dangerously and she studied their every move.

_Don't let it take over, Nat,_ she tried telling herself, almost like a mantra, feeling herself slipping, _Control. Control. Control._

"You just got lucky last time," the leader sneered, arms crossed over his chest. All of them wore their blue and gray Cynthian armour, though none of them had their helms on. Presumably, they had left them in their quarters.

"You have no idea what you're dealing with," Natsuki warned, drawing her hands from her pockets and letting her arms fall to her sides. Her muscles were twitchy with anticipation, "You should just let it go and back off."

He looked like he was going to laugh, but he stopped and his beady eyes narrowed. For a moment, Natsuki was confused, but then she realised what he was looking at. Her hand shot up to her hood and dragged it up to hide the marks on her neck with a scowl.

_Shit...Definitely not good._

"You see that, boys?" he asked, pointing at her, "She let Viola feed on her. Willingly."

The other Artemisians surrounding her growled. They were like a pack of hyenas, circling ever closer, ever closer. Natsuki's head lowered slowly and she bent her knees, shifting her feet slightly, preparing for an attack.

He continued speaking, a disgusted look on his face, "You know what that makes you, love? That makes you a traitor to your race. And we don't take kindly to traitors here."

Natsuki licked her lips nervously, her green eyes darting from side to side. She couldn't possibly ward them off without calling on her powers and that was not what she wanted to do. If she were to summon Hespera, she would lose all restraint, she would be pushed back into that dread corner of her mind where she could only watch, a spectator to her body's terribly will.

"Hey, princess," the leader said suddenly, grabbing her attention so that her gaze met his. He was grinning, "Watch your left."

_What -?_

As she looked over her left shoulder, a fist crashed into her right cheek. Staggering backwards, Natsuki was caught in the waiting arms of the soldier behind her. He threw her by the shoulders to a soldier on his left, but she was just able to duck beneath the punch aimed for her head and land a blow of her own, jabbing quick and sharp at the soldier's flank. A hiss of pain met her actions, but before she could get her bearings, she felt the wind being knocked clean out of her as she took a fist straight to the gut. Doubled over and gasping for breath, Natsuki barely had time to realise that she was being knocked to the floor before her legs were swept out from under her. She cried out as her shoulder came into harsh contact with the stone floor and she was too distracted to protect herself as a solid kick landed on her ribs. Whimpering, she curled into a ball as the blows continued to fall, protecting her face with her arms, her chest with her knees, praying that it would end soon, begging her self control to not slip. She grit her teeth and took the abuse, eyes clenched shut, holding back the power that tickled her fingertips.

_Control. Control. Control.._

_Please...Stop. I don't...I don't want to kill anybody else._

The rain of blows pattered off and Natsuki dared to peek up at the men standing over her, vaunting, smirking down at her. Blood glistened on a few of their boots and she dimly registered the fact that she must be bleeding from somewhere. Her breath came in short pants that sent shocks of pain running up her torso; a few of her ribs had doubtlessly been broken.

Their leader squatted down near her head and whispered just loudly enough for her to hear, "You know what I'm going to do once this little war is over and the Company don't need this truce no longer?" he began, smoothing back her hair, tucking a stray lock behind her ear, "I'm gonna be the first to put a bullet in Viola's skull. And there's gonna be a whole line of us right behind me, waitin' to do the same."

_No..._

Panic filled her then, laced with despair, a panic so strong it made her shiver. It was suddenly cold, so cold.

The cold.

It flooded her.

Natsuki could no longer contain it.

The leader started to rise, satisfied with his work. He was stopped by something, however. Puzzled, he looked down. A hand had grabbed the lip of his armour at his neck. A hand that glowed. A hand from which thick tendrils of blinding white light peeled off like pale smoke. His eyes widened as he followed that hand to the arm, to the shoulder, and finally met a gaze that blazed with emerald thunder. The girl's face was perfectly smooth and calm with that distant look, like that of a cool statue, but those eyes burned cold. That sculpted mouth moved and one word came out, spoken in a voice that chilled his blood, a voice that invoked a terror in his mind the likes of which he had never known.

"_Die._"

* * *

Shizuru's head snapped up, eyes wide.

_Natsuki..._

Midori frowned over at her, ceasing for a moment their observances of the troupe of vampire soldiers performing before them, "Is something wrong, Viola?" Camilla, too, looked up at Shizuru, her slanted eyes burning a sudden red.

"I must leave," Shizuru announced. Her expression was impassive, but her body was held taught like the wire of a stringed instrument, "Immediately," she gave an order to the officer by their side, "Commander. Artemis will continue here without me. Treat her as you would me."

The man bowed, hand over his heart, "Yes, Mistress."

And then, Shizuru was gone.

Midori blinked at the spot where Viola had vanished and just shook her head with a sigh. From where the lioness sat, Camilla bumped her squarish head on Midori's upper arm, letting loose a growling purr. Unable to keep back a small smile, she affectionately rubbed the lioness' neck. The Commander watched this, expressionless, while his men continued with their harrowing display in the background.

"You don't like me very much, do you Commander?"

The man did not seem surprised at her comment, but his eyes narrowed fractionally,

"Permission to speak freely, Ma'am?"

She gave a curt nod, one hand still buried in the thick fur of her lioness.

"Last I saw you," he began, voice crisp and uninflected, "you killed the commanding officer before me."

_Oh. Whoops._

That must have been on her raid of this facility a few years back, after she had been investigating the barracks for quite some time. Investigating the barracks had been her primary assignment when she was still a Company Operative, and then, after she had been promoted to District Officer, she had led the raids on many of the barracks all across the West.

"My apologies, Commander," she said bluntly.

He just waved her away with a small gesture of his hand, "No need, Ma'am. He was a son of a bitch, if you'll pardon the language."

Midori chuckled, "Then...You're welcome?"

His answering grin revealed sharp, dagger-like canines, "Normally, I would accept that. But in these difficult times...We need sons of bitches like him."

"How insightful of you," she replied dryly. Midori slipped a hand beneath her jacket and retrieved a silver flask filled with liquor from her breast-pocket. Unscrewing the cap, she held it up in a toast, "To sons of bitches," she said, taking a quick swig then handing it over.

The Commander smiled and took the flask, raising it in the air, "To sons of bitches, Ma'am."

* * *

When Shizuru materialised in Parliament, she silently cursed in her native tongue.

Natsuki stood perfectly still in the centre of a hallway. Light swirled about her in brilliant veins of white, coiling in the air. At her feet were the remains of four Artemisian soldiers, no more than husks of torn flesh, all seared through like burned meat. Those thunderous emerald eyes blazed, staring off into nothing. Not a speck of blood adorned her person, but for her hands. It looked as though she had pulled on a pair of crimson gloves that tapered off at her elbows, dripping from her fingertips onto the floor.

To make matters worse, hordes of other Cynthian personnel clamoured around, packed into the narrow hallway, craning their necks to see what damage had been done, whispering in hushed tones. Some were soldiers, but most were not. Natsuki did not seem to even see them, for she paid them no attention.

"Get back!" Shizuru bellowed, one of the few times she ever raised her voice, and silence fell, "Everyone! Evacuate this area! Return to your quarters!"

For a moment, none of them moved, until they all finally started to trickle from the hall, grumbling all the while, suspiciously eyeing the dread Countess and her lover. She waited until the last person trailed off before turning her attention back to the girl.

Natsuki did not seem to have heard her. Cautiously, Shizuru started forward until she was standing in front of her, carefully stepping over and around any human bodily detritus as she went.

"Natsuki..." she breathed, slowly reaching out her hand to cup the girl's smooth cheek.

Those eyes flickered and a hand shot up, catching Shizuru's by the wrist in a hard grasp, "Keres," that voice came as layered, as though it was echoing through chambers, or perhaps dimensions, "It has been long since we last saw one another."

Shizuru cocked her head slightly, "Hespera," she calmly returned the greeting, tapping into the information reserve that dwelled within her, living in the innumerable spirits of violent death that her person housed, "It is a pleasure to be in your company once more."

Natsuki's mouth curled upwards in a cruel smile and she tossed Shizuru's hand aside with disdain, "You have grown soft, Keres, to greet me so. Is this what mortal life has wrought? Has it made of you a tame pet, a chained creature?"

Scarlet eyes narrowed and Shizuru lifted her chin angrily, arrogantly, "There is much to be learned from the lives of these fleeting fools."

"Like I said," Hespera hissed, "_Soft._"

"And you have become bitter," the Countess countered, "So unnaturally austere...What has become of the laughter-loving Hesperides that grace the gardens of sunset?"

A snarl crossed Natsuki's features, "All things have changed since the Summoning of the last Revenant. Tell me, why has this new Revenant not yet been dealt with? I can smell her. So close...Too close."

Shizuru's hands clenched into fists quaking with unspoken rage, "The Moirae have forbidden me from killing the Revenant."

"Ah..." the girl's features softened slightly, though she was still as distant as a cold star in the black night of space, "Mother Nyx must be planning something..."

"Undoubtedly."

Hespera growled, "That cunning bitch."

Shizuru barked out a caustic laugh, "Some things never change."

The nymph just grinned back at her in a pale semblance of its usual whimsy and for a few long moments, neither of them spoke a word.

And then, Hespera broke the silence, "The girl," she said, "she summoned me for you. She cares for you."

The Countess, the dauntless Blood Countess of Ecsed, lowered her gaze, unable to look at Natsuki any longer, "I know."

"This can not last, Keres," she heard Hespera say with her beloved Natsuki's huskily melodic voice, "You must know this will have to end. Soon."

"Yes," Shizuru's voice threatened to crack. She felt like weeping, "I know."

Hespera sighed mournfully, "Why must you do this to yourself?"

"I can not control the emotions of this body's mind," the Countess admitted, raising her face to meet Natsuki's blazing green gaze again, "Surely you must also feel how those emotions eat at you, washing up, sure as the waves against the shore."

Slowly, Hespera nodded Natsuki's head, looking contemplative, "Yes...This is a strange co-existence, is it not?"

"Though not unpleasant at times."

At this, Hespera shot the Countess an amused and somewhat smug look, allowing those emerald eyes to roam Shizuru's curves, "Indeed. Humans are such a..._tempestuous_ lot."

Again, a comfortable silence fell. They just stood there together. The two simply seemed to be basking in the company of another immortal; living a life surrounded by humans was lonely by their standards. They missed such simple contact.

"You must leave now," Shizuru announced softly.

Hespera drew a deep breath, sorrowful, "Of course."

The girl's eyes slowly closed. The light faded, withdrawing back into her limbs, and she slumped forward into Shizuru's arms.

"Sh-Shi..zuru?" her eyelids flickered weakly.

Shizuru hushed her, stroking that raven-dark hair, "Rest, Natsuki," she murmured, "For now. Rest."

* * *

**(1): See? See what I mean? It looks so much better when you can actually see the equation…Boo hiss. I hate writing out math in long form. Anyway, there's my geek-side showing itself shamelessly once again! Alas!**

**Hope y'all liked it! Feel free to leave me a review or shoot me a PM.**

**Until next time, folks! Valete!**

**-Kore**


	31. Chapter 31

**Salvete, omnes!**

** I have returned with yet another update from yours truly. I received a few puzzled glances at the end of the last chapter, and instead of answering those queries, I have decided to give you more unanswered questions in this chapter! Huzzah!**

** In case you have not yet noticed, I take great joy in torturing my audience with painstakingly revealed clues. I don't like just plain **_**telling**_** y'all what's going on. I prefer for you to figure it out for yourselves. This is primarily a Romance, yes, but it also has some aspects that can only be defined as "Mystery". The entire Nao/Takeda storyline, for instance, is basically a detective story that I've slipped into the overarching plot in order to keep things suspenseful and give a different perspective on what's going on with a key character known, at this point, only as the Revenant.**

** I've dropped a few juicy clues in the past about the ever enigmatic Revenant, and this nameless character continues to make key appearances in conversations, if not in actual person. Suffice it to say, the Revenant is an absolutely critical persona for the completion of this story, and as such, the Revenant will continue to appear more and more frequently as the chapters progress.**

** In other words, hang in there! Everything has a resolution! It will just take a bit of time for me to tease it into the open and then finally wrap it all up with a bang. **

** Enjoy!**

** Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine. **

* * *

"Damn it."

Nao raised an eyebrow at her partner's vehemently spat curse. To say that Takeda rarely cursed was sort of like saying that the weather in England sometimes consisted of rain, or that Italians like to make somewhat fast cars. So even a tame "Damn it!" from Takeda was worth a measure of surprise. It was odd, really. If one were to take mere appearances into consideration, Takeda looked like the kind of bloke who would curse out his best friend's dear old grandmother because she put raisins in his cookies when all the world knew that he despised raisins and everything to do with them. He was a tall man, not particularly brawny, but his swarthy features and the scar on his face made him seem like a grizzled veteran of back-alley knife fights. No matter that he was bland as British cooking and just as tasteless (though, on second thought, Nao considered British 'cuisine' just as lethal as an electric chair, and to be eaten only when the apocalypse reduced all other edible items to mere molecules).

Takeda had his reasons for being angered, however. Nao, too, could feel the frustration knotting up in her chest, just above her diaphragm.

They were standing over the corpse of yet another girl. It was one of the few days that London actually saw a bit of sunshine, so Nao had her jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder, her black hat slightly askew, but she had left her sleeves down for the air still held a bit of a chill that did not require her to roll her sleeves up. Takeda, on the other hand, seemed to be taking full advantage of the sun's feeble rays through the thin cloud-cover, for he had left his jacket in the car and one of his sleeves was crumpled messily around his tanned elbow, revealing his wiry forearm. The fold-out blade of his katana was still tightly wrapped around his right forearm and that, therefore, was the sleeve which had stayed down in order to conceal his unorthodox weapon.

Nao chewed furiously on a toothpick as she inspected the crime scene. They were near the Old Red Lion Theatre and people were milling about outside the police tape that had been strung up all around. Officers in black tried warding off quizzical pedestrians and overly inquisitive news-reporters suffering from 'premature-photo-taking' (the disease was rampant these days). Luckily, however, nobody thought it prudent to question Nao and Takeda's authority this time around, so they were left to their own devices, which was just as she liked it. Nothing fueled her irritation more than nosy individuals. To her, they might as well have been asking to have their limbs removed from their bodies, a wish Nao was only so happy to perform.

Not a spot of blood stained the ground around the girl. She was younger than the others had been, perhaps only thirteen. After a quick inspection of her person, Nao had discovered that she was, in fact, not American, but a young Belgian girl by the name of Marie Vermeulen. The signs all pointed to one thing: this must be yet another addition to their case. Mademoiselle Vermeulen's throat was cut, she was drained dry, and her right hand had been removed with surgical precision, post-mortem.

"Damn," Takeda muttered again, circling to splayed body and scowling, "Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn."

"Careful, Masashi," Nao brandished her soggy toothpick at him with mock severity, "or you'll meet your swearing quota for the month."

He shot her a dirty look, which made her pause. Perhaps she had gone too far. But then again, she didn't really care, "This isn't funny, Nao!" he growled, "This whole case is getting out of hand!"

She couldn't help herself. She laughed.

It was so strange a noise. Nao laughed so infrequently that it sounded harsh even to her own ears. Her laughter sounded more like the cackling of the Wicked Witch of the West. Still, she could not refrain from such a perfect moment.

Takeda was glaring at her form, which was doubled-over from her hilarity, "What on God's green earth has gotten into you?" he nearly snarled.

"Out...Out of...Out of _hand_!" she gasped, snatching off her hat to keep it from falling off her head and toppling onto the victim, thus ruining the crime scene. With her other arm, she steadied herself on her knees and started wheezing from all the laughing.

Finally, he realised what was so funny, "Oh, _Christ!_" he cried, throwing up his arms in exasperation, "That's just morbid!"

Nao let loose a fresh crow of laughter.

"You're foul, you know that?" he snapped at her, "A foul, sick-minded, heartless bitch!"

If Nao were anybody but herself, she might have actually taken offence to that statement. But, of course, she didn't. In fact, it probably just boosted her ego some (not that it needed the boost, God knows...).

Straightening, she had to hold back something that sounded suspiciously like a giggle, but that would have been far too girly for the likes of her. Instead, she hid it with a well-placed cough that only made Takeda's eyes narrow further, "You know," she grinned at him, placing her hat back in its previous, haphazard position on her head, "the best part is that you didn't even mean to make the joke."

"Not funny," he countered lamely.

Her grin widened, "Priceless."

Shaking his head, Takeda gave up and decided to turn his attention back to the matter at hand (all puns intended). He crouched down next to the body and inspected it to no avail. Nao did not seem the slightest bit interested in the body, strangely enough. After she had gotten her humour back on its rather short and suffocating leash, she moved away from the body. Her partner rose from where he crouched, frowning questioningly after her, "What are you doing?"

"There's no use looking at that," she replied over her shoulder, peering around the rest of the crime-scene, "We won't be able to get anything off the body. I can promise you that."

"What do you mean? We've already gotten identification! That's something, isn't it?"

Nao arrogantly waved his retort aside, chewing fiercely on the toothpick she had picked up at lunch so that it's pale brown end bobbed up and down from her mouth. She continued her searched elsewhere as she answered, "And a fat lot of good that'll do us. Haven't you noticed that identification doesn't matter in this case?"

"Come again?" he was following her lead now, though still with that infuriatingly dubious look on his face.

_Honestly, _she thought to herself, _how often have I been wrong about these things? That's right. Never. So just blow me, Masashi._

"Think about it," she peered around the corner of a nearby alley, no more than twenty feet from the placement of the body and therefore still barred from the public by police lines, "The murders aren't according to _who_ the victims are. That's not where the pattern lies. It's according to _what_ the victims are. So I don't give a damn about their identification. That's just a plump red-herring waiting to take us down the wrong track."

He followed her into the shadowed alleyway, looking up the brick walls slimy with moss and the nameless, sickly secretions of city-life. Takeda was a country bumpkin. He would never get used to crowded cities such as London with not enough air for a person to properly breathe, "How can you be so sure? How do you know this isn't some grand scheme in which somebody is, I don't know...picking off the daughters of key family members across Europe and America. And New Zealand."

Nao paused in order to give him a look that said, _Don't be an idiot._

"What?" he held up his arms imploringly, "It could be true!"

With a sigh and a defeated shake of her head, she went back to work, exploring the alley with a critical eye, "You're hopeless...I bet you we'll only find the same information as we have for all the other cases on the body of our dear Marie Vermeulen. Nothing more, nothing less."

The only sound to meet her challenge was that of policemen and pedestrians in the background.

"Forget it," Takeda muttered.

"What's that?" she smirked mischievously, her olive green eyes glinting, "You're not taking the bet?"

"Of course not! Do you think I'm thick? The only time you ever place bets is when you absolutely know you'll win."

"Exactly."

Together, they searched the contents of the grimy back alley. The entire time, Takeda had a disgusted expression stretching his features due to the ungodly smells that issued from every corner: a mixture of urine, rotting food, and human sweat. He was trying to convince Nao to give up this mad hunch of hers and return to the _real_ crime scene when she suddenly gave a great whoop of triumph.

"You can't be serious..." he gaped at her finding.

As a prize for her victory, Nao disposed of her useless toothpick in a nearby garbage dumpster and lit up a cigarette, drawing in deeply and blowing a full cloud of toxic smoke in her partner's astonished face, "Suck it, kendo boy," she jeered good-naturedly, "I was right. You were wrong. I win. You lose. End of story."

They were looking at a circle on the ground. Strange symbols and curved lines spiked across it, making it look like some sort of insignia in an ancient language of which all knowledge had long since been completely eradicated. In fact, it looked more like a sigil, something created purely for the purpose of black magic. It was a dark, reddish brown colour, thick and crusting, like dried blood. It was the same circle that they saw only partially on one of their photos of a past murder. This was the key clue to their case, Nao was sure of it.

Nao slapped Takeda unnecessarily hard across the back and said smugly, "I want a good, clear picture of that."

Grumbling all the while, he stomped out of the alleyway to retrieve his camera from the car.

Snickering to herself, the Operative expertly flicked aside some flakes of ash from the end of her cigarette before sticking it back between her lips. It would soon be finished, but she would allow herself to indulge in one more for the day. For one day of the week, Nao refrained from smoking. She didn't really know why she had started this strange tradition. It wasn't to help her stop smoking altogether; that would never happen and she knew it. No. It was almost part of a rewards system for herself. The next day, it made her appreciate the cigarettes she was allowed to have that much more. Today was that day. She often found herself dreading this day simply because of the fact that she was jittery through all its hours. Still, on very special occasions, such as this one, Nao was able to have a cigarette or two to get her through the day.

Feeling enormously pleased with herself, Nao was bent on enjoying her celebratory cigarette when something caught her eye. Or, rather, someone.

It was a young boy. He couldn't have been more than fifteen, though his hair was a silver

gray. Premature, was her guess. With his pale, button-down shirt and his thin hands tucked into his black pants, he looked rather out of place. What concerned her most, however, was the fact that he was standing right in front of the alley, staring at her with a twisted looking grin on his boyish face that sent shivers down her spine.

"Hey!" she yelled loudly, "What the hell do you think you're doing on my crime scene!"

But when she blinked, he was gone.

* * *

When Natsuki finally woke, she was alone in a dark room with nothing but a splitting headache to keep her company.

After blearily blinking sleep from her eyes, she got her bearings and discovered that it was, in fact, Shizuru's room. She had been tucked beneath the cool white sheets of the Countess' bed and left to slumber. The usually lit fireplace was cold and dark, filled with ash and what looked like the charred remains of a large log that had slowly burned out. Everything seemed to blend together like inky shadows bleeding into a night landscape. She would have sat up in bed and started roaming around, perhaps taken a bath or something of the sort, but for the fact that the handle on the door turned.

Shizuru entered, stopping just in the doorway, "I do not wish to speak of this any longer, Shiho," she said sternly to the vampire girl who was presumably hovering in the hallway just outside, though Natsuki could not see her, "Tell the nobles whatever story you want, whatever it takes to get them off my back," she hissed, "Just do it."

With that being said, the Countess shut the door and leaned against it with a heavy sigh. Her crimson eyes were hidden behind their lids and her shoulders had the barest hint of a slump to them. Natuski had never seen her look so tired, almost haggard. There were no dark bags beneath Shizuru's eyes and her honeyed hair was still as seamlessly perfect as ever. It was in the way she held herself. That indescribably regal air remained, but there was also something else, something that could only be described as fatigue.

Shizuru looked downright _weary_.

Weary of the bickering between humans and vampires.

Weary of the politicking within Cynthian and aristocratic ranks.

Weary of war.

Weary of life.

Those bright, scarlet eyes shot open and turned to the bed with a startled yet pleased look, "You're awake."

Natsuki could almost feel the softening of Shizuru's gaze as the Countess looked at her.

That tenderness was perhaps the most beautiful thing Natsuki could ever recall beholding. She could not, for the life of her, explain why, but seeing the worries all chased from Shizuru's stunning features took her breath away. It were as though Shizuru had just melted in her eyes, melted into a puddle of relief.

She stepped forward until she was standing just over the bed, looking down at the dark-haired girl still cuddled up among the pillows, "How do you feel?"

Natsuki tried to speak, but found that her throat was too dry to do so. After swallowing a few times, she managed to croak out, "Water, please..."

Within a second, Shizuru had vanished and reappeared by the bed, handing Natuski a glass of water and helping her sit up. Thirstily, the girl chugged down a few mouthfuls before handing the glass back to Shizuru, who placed it delicately on the bedside table. A somewhat uncomfortable silence fell as Natsuki tried to properly word the question at the very fore of her mind.

Finally, she spoke, "Those soldiers..." she began, but got no further.

"Dead," Shizuru stated plainly yet softly, "Though even if they had survived, I don't think they would have fared well once Mai got to them," the Countess gave her a small smile, trying to lighten the mood, "You should have seen how angry she was. It was quite amusing, to be truthful."

But Natsuki was having none of her lightheartedness, it seemed. Wordlessly, the girl turned over.

_Damn it,_ Natsuki thought to herself, feeling a burning sensation rising up in her throat, _Damn. Damn. Damn. _

She heard a sorrowful sigh behind her before Shizuru slipped into bed as well. As soon as she felt those smooth, soothing arms go around her, pulling her closer, Natsuki felt that something within her break.

Shizuru said nothing as Natsuki buried her head into the pillows and cried. The Countess merely held her tighter. She murmured no needless words of consolation. She just held her shaking body and let the tears flow.

"I-I didn't..." Natuski choked between sobs, voice muffled, "I didn't want to...I tried...B-B-But they -!"

Shizuru said nothing because she did not need to say anything. She understood. She understood all too well. If there was anybody on this earth who understood, it was Shizuru. Natsuki had killed those men in the dungeons when Hespera first overtook her, but Hespera's Awakening then had been mostly an act of self-defense, of self-preservation. In the dungeons, during the invasion of Parliament, Natsuki had been a breath away from death and the only thing that had kept her alive had been Hespera. But with those soldiers in the hallway, Natuski had knowingly let Hespera take over her body and mind. She had allowed her own emotions, her own desire to kill those men to fuel Hespera.  
It had been a transformation from self-preservation to something that was, undeniably, murder.

If there was something in this world that Shizuru understood, it was that drastic yet infinitesimally small change.

And so, Shizuru held her until there were no tears left.

* * *

Mai sat in one of the squat chairs in front of Midori's glass desk. The Cynthian Leader was calmly sipping a large cup of steaming pomegranate tea behind her desk, legs crossed, still wearing her spotless white suit. At her feat, the snowy lioness lay, pretending to snooze but, in reality, observing its surroundings with terrifying precision. Mai's eagle, Prometheus, was acting in a similar manner, with its head tucked under its wing even as a single round, red eye peeked out, watching.

Where Midori seemed completely calm, Mai was on edge.

No. That was a lie.

Mai was _furious_.

The story that everyone knew was that Mai had been sent to Phaesporia on official business, acting on behalf of Artemis as the Cynthian Leader's right hand. Mai and Midori, however, both knew different.

Mai had _not_ been in Phaesporia. She had, though, been on official business. In Parliament.

"I hate you."

Midori's brows rose at her Officer's sudden statement. It was not an exclamation, for it lacked volume, but it made up for it in pure, unadulterated venom, "Is that so?" Artemis coolly replied, "May I ask why?"

"You know bloody well why!" Mai snapped back.

Midori sipped noisily at her tea, "Indulge me."

"You -!" the District Officer bit off her words and breathed deeply, "I never signed up for this."

The ceramic mug made a soft clink as it was placed on the glass table, "You mean where Natsuki was concerned."

It was not a question.

Mai leaned forward, her lilac eyes unusually dark, her voice dangerously soft, "She is my friend."

Midori met the glare with a level gaze of her own, "I ordered you to make the girl think you were her friend. It's no fault of mine if _you_ became emotionally invested in her."

An armoured gloved fist came crashing down on Midori's desk. Luckily, the glass was thick enough that it did not shatter. The eagle on Mai's shoulder jumped and clutched at its perch with a startled squawk. The lioness jerked its head up and its tufted tail swished angrily through the air, "I don't want anymore part of this!" Mai growled, "Enough's enough, Midori!"

The Cynthian Leader just laced her fingers and replied simply, "It's never enough, Mai."

"You made me _spy_ on her!" she stood, fists leaned on the desk, towering over her superior, "You made me -!"

"I made you do nothing!" Midori snapped back, finally revealing some figurative teeth of her own, "You did it because it had to be done!"

Mai's orders had been to observe Natuski's reaction to the soldiers' hassling. Nobody was meant to die, but nothing could be done. Midori had gotten the idea after Mai reported that those same soldiers a few days earlier had harassed both Natsuki and Endymion in the dungeons.

"Is that all you ever think about? What _has to be done_?" the gloves on Mai's hands creaked from the strain her fists had on the material, "Natsuki Kruger is a person, not some play-thing!"

Something perilous flashed in Midori's gaze. Mai did not know about Midori's connection with Natsuki's dead mother, Saeko, therefore she did not understand her superior's feelings on the subject. But Midori had buried the crucial part of herself that actually cared. All that mattered now was the war, "Natsuki Kruger," she began softly, "is our greatest asset in this war."

"Is that all you think of her as? A _weapon_? And I was just supposed to find out what triggered her, is that it?"

For a moment, there was absolute silence, until Midori said, her tone cold and uninflected as ice, "Yes."

Mai just dropped back into her seat and put her head in her hands.

Neither of them spoke. And then Midori broke the quiet, "And what was her trigger, Callisto?"

"Don't call me that," Mai mumbled from between her hands.

"I am Artemis, and you are Callisto," came the frigid, controlled reply, "One day, you will take my place. That is the way things work in Phaesporia."

"But Chie -"

Midori broke in, "Chie Harada is very good at what she does. She is an excellent District Officer of the East, but she will never be Artemis."

Mai raised her head, a haunted look in her eyes despite the fervent shine, "There won't always be a war," she hissed, "There won't always need to be an Artemis."

"That is where you are wrong. There will always be an Artemis. There will always be a Hunt," Midori picked up her tea once more and took a sip even though it had gone tepid and slightly bitter, "Now...What was her trigger, _Callisto_?"

Mai's glare intensified, "What the hell do you think it was?" she snapped angrily, "It was Viola."

At this, Mai was horrified to see Midori give a small, secretive smile over the rim of her mug as she took another sip of cooling tea, "Excellent," the Cynthian Leader leaned back in her chair with the tea in hand, her smile grim, "Excellent."

* * *

**Ooooh...Bad Midori! Bad! Be nice to poor Natsuki!**

** Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! Until next time!**

** -Kore**


	32. Chapter 32

**Salvete, omnes!**

**Forgive me for the delay in posting; I've just started school again. Another semester begins, and I'm not too sad to see summer go. Don't get me wrong, I love having my free time. But I more enjoy having a strict routine, a schedule to follow and keep me in line. It makes me feel...organised. Efficient. **_**Clean**_**. **

**In any case, I'm here again. I've actually skipped a few chapters that I had planned out because I had somehow managed to squish them all together in the last two chapters. Hmm...Strange. No matter! We're going to be seeing a very different side of things in this chapter, as you'll soon see. A different perspective, a different voice, and more back-story on a character that has remained pretty secondary up until this point. Said persona will remain secondary, make no mistake, but she'll also receive some much-needed fleshing out.**

**Also, many of you correctly guessed that the boy in the alleyway whom Nao saw was, indeed, our beloved Nagi. We'll be seeing more of him (though I will admit with a great measure of shame that his role is somewhat reminiscent of a Deus Ex Machina construction. Mea culpa, friends. Mea maxima culpa). **

**Be warned, however. Because of school, my updates will be a bit on the sluggish side. Be patient with me :)**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

_Shiho...I'm so sorry..._

Amber eyes blinked away the image, the memory, bearing their owner back to the present. Feet bound in black buckled shoes paused momentarily, hesitant in their usually purposeful and relentless stride. Thick red petticoats, many layered beneath a white silk gown, ceased their rustling as the vampire girl froze. Her gaze narrowed, flashing to a dangerous scarlet. Her reaction was always this way when the memories returned, ever plaguing her. They were the reason why she no longer slept, why she feared to sleep. They were the reason why she had lost her way in life. Or, rather, in _un_living.

That thought brought something of a grim smile to her lips and she continued on her way. Her partner, Mai, did not even notice her discrepancy, but her pet did. The eagle, Prometheus, glared suspiciously at Shiho over its master's shoulder and she returned the glare in kind. When The Usurper had still been in power, Shiho had known all about the animal experimentations going on in Parliament, but that did not mean she had supported them in the slightest. The thought of vampiric animals sickened her, quite frankly. An innocent, ignorant creature should not have to endure this fate.

She refused to think of her former master's name. He was but The Usurper in her mind.

Nothing more, nothing less. The Usurper had killed her true master, her one love in this world. He was not worthy of the name Tate Yuuichi, for that was a name near sacred to her, a name that deserved to be spoken with pride, dignity and reverence. The Usurper had had none of those qualities, not even a meagre drop. Even thinking of him as her 'former master' left something of a bad taste in her mouth, redolent of disease, jaundiced and decaying. The Usurper was not her master; he had never been her master.

Viola she respected. The Countess commanded the hearts and minds of those beneath her with a grasp of steel and hellfire. And _all people_ were beneath her. Of that, Shiho was absolutely certain. None could quite compare to the magnificent brutality of the one Countess of Hungary, the Creature of Ecsed, for hers was a cruelty that was comparable to artistry. It shone like a brilliant star on the far horizon, a blazing beacon of murderous history mingled with the taint of legends. There was something so terrifyingly beautiful about it, so breathtakingly suspenseful, so vibrantly chilling, so...so...

Once upon a time, Shiho had seen Viola's true form. She had been witness to the paralyzing horrors unleashed therein, like an unbridled storm of blood and shadow and the shrieking promise of a harrowing death. The Keres dragged the souls of men to their graves while they still choked upon a pool of their own fluids, strewn senseless across battlefields, crying out for their wives and children and mothers. The Keres were no more than instruments of death and destruction and blood-lust, and yet, at the same time, they were so much more.

They were the seeds of progression, of transformation. They were the wildfires that razed the countrysides, reducing the fields to ash so that new life might better grow.

Shiho may not have consciously been aware of it, but she had a nagging suspicion, a gut feeling that informed her that Viola's presence here, now, was more than to end a war. Viola's presence here, now, was to begin a world, a world wiped clean of past sins, cleaned of past life long overgrown, a world reborn in ash and flame.

_Forgive me, Shiho...I can only hope that one day you will understand...That you will forgive me..._

Shiho bit back a growl. The memories. Again. Would they never cease to hound her? Could she never escape their merciless jaws?

_Forgive you?_ she could recall her own voice now, quivering with unshed tears, _I will never forgive you, Tate! I will never forgive you for allowing that bastard to kill you! I will never forgive you for leaving me!_

And then he had smiled, a smile that pained her, tore at her heart with its sweetness with its caring. Men had no right to look so utterly defenseless, _Shiho...I may die here today, but I will never leave you._

She may not have been able to avenge her Maker, her beloved Tate, by killing The Usurper but Shizuru had done the deed for her, and for that Shiho would follow the Countess to the very end of all things.

"Shiho?"

She felt a hand on her shoulder and, startled, looked up. Mai was staring down at her, something akin to concern marring her brow in a frown. Impossible. The Artemisian Officer could never feel sympathy for one such as herself. How could she, after all that Shiho had done over the years, the centuries? Impossible.

"Shiho...are you alright?"

Those lilac eyes infuriated her with their hints of kindness. What right had Mai to feel kindness for _her_? It was insulting.

"Of course I'm alright!" the vampire girl snapped angrily, "Why wouldn't I be?"

The District Officer's frown deepened, "Well...because you're crying."

Stunned, Shiho just stared.

_Impossible..._

Furiously, she scrubbed at her tear-streaked face with her palms and shrugged off Mai's hand as she brushed by the Officer, "Don't be ridiculous!" she snarled, baring her fangs in a manner most unlike herself, "I do not cry!"

_No...I do not. Not for a very long, long time now. _

She reached the end of the hall before she realised that her partner had not moved from that spot and continued to frown after her as though worried, "Well? Are you coming or not?"

With a great sigh, Mai just shook her head and followed.

* * *

Natsuki sighed into Duran's thick coat of fur. The large wolf huffed in reply, his flanks rising and falling with his exhalation. She had come down to the dungeons a few hours ago to be alone. Shizuru had been there for her when she needed it most. Even when Natsuki had turned over and pinned her to the bed, kissing her with a barely restrained fervour, the Countess had just accepted the rough treatment of her person and given the girl what she needed: blessed release. It had been the first time Natsuki had cried during sex, and it was not an act she wanted to repeat anytime soon. Afterwards, Shizuru had tenderly kissed the skin all along Natsuki's body, still sweaty and trembling from exertion. That simple act of quiet kindness had almost made her break out into fresh tears, but instead she had just taken her lower lip between her teeth and watched Shizuru lavish attention upon her with such sweet sincerity.

How strange, she thought to herself now as she cuddled with Duran on the cold stone floor of the dungeons, that opinions could change so drastically, with such alacrity! Natsuki could remember a time not too long ago that she had feared Shizuru. Two weeks ago, she never would have let the Countess touch her without some sort of glare or act of complaint. In so short a time, everything had changed. She had changed.

Had Shizuru changed as well? Something told her that, yes, of course Shizuru had changed. But then again, she had not. Shizuru was still the same infuriating tease, the same dangerous temptress, but she had revealed a side of herself Natsuki never knew existed. On the inside, Shizuru was soft and warm and surprisingly caring.

After their bout of heated and, on her rather mortified part, teary lovemaking, a knock had come at the door and Shiho had entered without an invitation. Her amber eyes had not even looked fazed when she took in the sight of Shizuru and Natsuki naked on the bed together, their limbs all caught up in each other, their hair tousled, their mouths somewhat bruised and puffy. Predictably, Natsuki had blushed and covered herself with her hands, shooting a glare in Shiho's direction, but Shizuru had just arched a cool brow at the vampire girl. Shizuru was always so open about the sight of flesh. Perhaps it was the time and culture she had been raised in, but she had just asked what Shiho wanted and then ordered her out of the room. The aristocracy were demanding an appearance from the Countess. About Natsuki, no less. Shizuru had to go and placate them for now.

Arching up and giving Natsuki a quick kiss, Shizuru had whispered, "I have to go now."

Natsuki had just nodded wordlessly, her cheeks still a little red. Still, Shizuru had seen the despondent look in her forest green eyes, "Don't worry," the Countess had assured her calmly, "Everything will be fine."

When that failed to assuage the girl's worry and guilt, she continued, "Do you know what I used to love to do after a hard battle or a bout of political maneuvering? When I needed to just...clear my head?" her crimson eyes grew increasingly gentle and she brushed back a wayward strand of night-dark hair, "I would go for a ride. A nice, long, soothing ride. Just me and the land."

Natsuki frowned quizzically, "So...I should go for a ride?"

Shizuru had just chuckled, "If you like. What I'm trying to say is, find a place here where you can be yourself."

"I'm not allowed to just be myself when I'm in your room?" she had teased back.

At this, Shizuru had scoffed and punished her with a well placed kiss, rolling her over and pressing her into the mattress. For a few moments, this had continued before Shizuru pulled back with a groan of complaint, "Now I really have to go. I'm horribly late."

"Mmm...Nooooo..." Natsuki whined, pulling Shizuru back and nuzzling into her neck, "I don't want you to go..."

The Countess stroked her lower back, trailing up over the generous swell of her hips that was so often hidden by the girl's modern clothes. Still, Shizuru did not mind; it just meant that that part of Natsuki was all for herself and for nobody else to see, "Duty calls, my Natsuki," she murmured, breathing in the girl's earthy scent, "Duty always calls..."

And so Natsuki found herself here, in the dungeons, alone with only Duran to keep her company.

"A ride, huh?"

Duran's ears perked at the sound of her voice.

Natsuki ruffled the fluffy collar of fur around his neck and whispered playfully, "Whatd'ya say, boy? Shall we go for a ride?"

The wolf gave a short ruff and lurched to his feet, tail wagging furiously as he turned to lather her face with sloppy licks.

"Gah! Fine! Just calm down there!"

Sitting up to her knees, Natsuki put her hands on either side of Duran's head and closed her eyes, "Keep still, mutt," she muttered, "I've never done this on my own before...At least, not on purpose."

He whined at her as though nervous.

"Shut up. It'll be fine."

She let her mind drift as her aura bled around her a brilliant, dazzling white, just as Shizuru taught her. Like walking home from a long day at work, her mind somewhere else even as her body moved of its own accord. She was floating in a blank space of her subconscious, letting another side of her take over. This was a side she was beginning to know well, much as it had caused her pain in the past. This was a side of herself that had the power to kill, but this was also a side of herself that had the power to create, to be more than just a destructive force.

A breath of wind stirred her hair. It was so cool and light a thing, gently tangling her long blue-black locks across her shoulders, down her back. When she opened her eyes, the emerald lightning still flashed there, thundering in her gaze as she looked about her. They were in Chesire. Night still lay across the land, staining the rolling hills of waving green grass with shadows. The smell of damp earth pervaded the air. If the clouds above were any indication, it had just rained recently. With a happy train of barks, Duran went scampering off, sniffing the grass and rolling around in the dirt.

Natsuki grinned at him, "Great. Now End is going to yell at me for getting you all dirty."

He just snuffled and snorted as he writhed around on his back, legs flopping haphazardly in the air.

Breathing in deeply, Natsuki finally allowed her aura to fade, the lightning flickering out of life. She was loath to do so, as it left her feeling bereft of all true sensation. Nothing felt quite the same when in her normal human state. Everything was so dull otherwise. So terribly colourless. It was tempting to stay in a perpetual state of divinity, but Shizuru had warned her about that. According to the Countess, it could become debilitating to her very mind, rotting her from within 'twere she to constantly keep a hold of Hespera. It would be like submitting her mind to the weathering effects of the sea, washing away her personality, scouring all manner of herself from her own body. A few days at most was the maximum amount of time she could meld herself with Hespera, Shizuru had said, or she would be forever lost, drowning in unspeakable powers.

_A few days?_ she wondered to herself incredulously, _If I do it for more than a few hours I start to get a head-ache! I don't even want to think about the migraine I would get for doing it for more than that! _

Still, this was supposed to be a time for her to relax. This was not meant to be a time when she contemplated all the worries that now plagued her, both inhuman and not.

"Duran!" she called out to the wolf who was now trotting around, snuffling in the grass, "Come!"

Dutifully, he trundled over, tail wagging in the air. She inspected him for a moment, wondering how she was going to do this. His massive withers rose to a place just above her chin. He had certainly grown since she last saw him not a day past. Using her arms, she hoisted herself onto his broad back, sitting just behind his shoulders. Puzzled, he craned his neck to look at her, ears perked in a questioning manner. He obviously had no trouble supporting her weight, though he plainly thought her placement atop him strange.

"I don't know if this'll work," she said, gripping a few fistfuls of fur along his neck and settling lower on his back, "but we might as well give it a try. Besides, it'll be fun, right?"

Duran licked his lips and gave a dubious growl.

"Don't be such a Nagging-Nancy," she scolded lightly, "Now...uhm...Giddyup?"

The wolf just cocked his head at her curiously.

"No? Is that not a part of your vocabulary?" she scratched her head thoughtfully, "Well, how about...Heave ho! Go! Charge!"

Somewhere among her joking guesses, she must have said something correctly, for Duran started off at an ease pace, a run above a trot but smoother. Startled, Natsuki gripped her legs tighter and held on for dear life. To be truthful, she was surprised that the ride was so smooth; she had expected it to be far more jostling. But this was...rather nice.

"Come on, Duran!" she called out, urging the wolf on, "You can go faster than this!"

At this, he skidded to a complete stop, almost throwing her forward off him, over his head. With a look on his features like a hound-like grin, he threw his head back and howled to the starry sky, a long, deep noise, regal even.

And then he took off like a bat out of hell.

The ground thundered beneath his heavy paws, eaten up by his loping strides. They galloped across the countryside, Natsuki clinging to Duran's back like her life depended on it. The scenery flashed by, all greens and blacks. The wind whistled in her ears until all she could hear was a cacophony of screaming air tearing at her hair, clawing at her clothes, the force of it threatening to knock her from Duran's back. It took a few moments for her to fully relax and find a rhythm, but when she finally reached that point, the effect was marvelous.

They had become the wind. They stormed the night like a force of nature. All was a blur of bruised colour and noise. It was enthralling. It was magnificent. It was altogether indescribable.

Natsuki let out a whoop of triumphant laughter and together she and Duran rushed over a hillock, quick as lightning, and disappeared from sight.

* * *

The Throne Room was a mill of dissonance. Nobles argued and yelled, all clamouring amongst themselves. Greed for power was a contributing factor behind their actions, but what really fuelled them now was fear.

News of Natsuki's powers had spread like wildfire among the ranks of vampires in Parliament. Shizuru and Midori had been able to keep it a secret for as long as they could, but it was inevitable that such information would leak out to the general population. The aristocracy was, in short, scared for their lives. A previously thought human girl was living among them with the potential power to destroy them in a moment's notice and they were only now just learning of her. None of them, save Shiho and the Württembergs, knew of Shizuru's true feelings towards Natsuki. Many knew of their sexual relationship, but they did not care about that so much. They thought that their Mistress used the girl purely as a source of pleasure, nothing more.

But why had their Mistress not informed them of this danger? What had she to hide? What were they to do now? These were the questions at the heart of this heated session.

One nobleman stepped forward and shouted above the others, "We should kill her before she has the chance to do the same to us!"

To this, many voiced their agreement.

"_Silence!_"

Shizuru had risen to her feet from her throne atop the dais, her expression thunderous. Darkness wreathed her form and her eyes blazed with a crimson light in all her terrible fury. Rage coursed through her, making her bare her fangs, making the air around her tremble and coalesce with shadows that whispered unutterable secrets of death and desire. A shiver ran through the crowd, keeping them silent, frozen where they stood.

"Natsuki Kruger is not to be harmed!" Shizuru snarled to the nobles, "This matter is non-negotiable! I am your Mistress! More! I am your _Maker_! All of you owe your lives to me, lives that you pledged to me! You snivelling cowards _will_ obey me, or I will know of it! If I hear that _anyone_ has so much as looked at Natsuki Kruger in a manner I deem unsuitable, he or she will answer to me. Personally. And I shall see to it that you pay the price for your indiscretion. _Personally._"

For a moment silence reigned. Nothing but the sound of murmuring shadows and the rushing whirl of unholy energy throughout the room could be heard. Then, Shizuru swept down from the dais, storming from the Throne Room without looking back, "This discussion," she hissed, as she departed, "is over."

* * *

**Ooooh! I love it when Shizuru gets all protective over her little Natsuki. **

**I also apologise for the fact that this chapter is a bit on the shorter side. Rawr. I feel so bad if I give you a chapter that's under eight pages (the beginning chapters of this fic don't count though, since at that point in time it was just a simple romance). Still, I feel that I could make it more descriptive, and I do try to do that as best as I can without being completely boring. **

**In any case, I hope y'all liked it! Until next time!**

**-Kore**


	33. Chapter 33

**Hello again, everyone! Welcome back to the next installment of A Bloody Awakening. **

**I would actually call this an "interlude" rather than an installment, because it's shorter than usual. (Uh oh. I see a trend arising. Say it ain't so!) Aside from that, however, it's still important in terms of plot. Actually, this chapter is **_**crucial**_** to future development. Especially with respect to the war. **

**In any case, I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

Smoke filled the room, mingled with black smog and strong, acrid fumes that stung the nose and eyes, making the latter water in pain and discomfort. Natsuki coughed, shielding her face with her right arm, squinting through the gloom. Things hung all around, dark, blacks and browns, all shapes and sizes, round, broad, thin, dangling strips, straps. There was no light, only a faint glow from a blazing furnace that roared from the pumped bellows, spitting yellow sparks and ash that absconded the the dirty stone floor, slowly fading from sight, dying like tiny souls in the stamped earth. The appliances were all of black iron, pitted and worn from years of use. The only furniture was a scratched wooden table, horribly scarred accompanied by a set of matching wooden stools, three-legged, one uneven so that it would tilt under a visitor's weight.

A sound issued into the hot hair, something between a sigh and a rough grunt, "What do you want?"

Natsuki swallowed and looked around, rather stunned by the sight. This was a room in the dungeons of Parliament that she had never knew existed. It wasn't that she went exploring much, but she certainly prided herself on knowing her way around. In addition to that, she considered the dungeons as being something of her domain, since she spent so much damn time down here with Duran, trying to escape the noxious politics and other mayhem that the Artemisians and vampires alike constantly involved themselves in. When she wasn't with Shizuru, she was usually in the dungeons. Even her own room went unoccupied these days, now that she slept in Shizuru's bed every night. She had even taken to moving a generous portion of her clothes into the Countess' room, a fact that the Countess herself was only to willing to remind her of, ever the terrible tease.

_"Shut it, Shizuru!" Natsuki had warned with a finger raised threateningly before her, "I don't want to hear any more of it!"_

_ "My, my! Natsuki is so sensitive...As you wish! If Natsuki does not wish for it to be known that she keeps her clothes in my room, then she can just leave."_

_ "Fine!" the girl growled, trudging over to the door, "I was just on my way out!"_

_ A throaty chuckle came from directly behind her, and she tensed as she felt Shizuru's warm breath on her neck, "Not with your clothes on."_

_ "W-What?"_

_ She just knew Shizuru was smirking behind her, "Well, if Natsuki doesn't want them, then the clothes in my room are mine. Including," she pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss to Natsuki's bare neck, "the clothes that are currently on you."_

_ And, God helped her, Natsuki had moaned at the twirl of an expert tongue up her neck, curling around the lobe of her ear, at the warmth of the body pressing into her back, at the deliberately small thrust of Shizuru's hips, at the insistent hands grasping said clothes and tearing them from her body, dragging Natsuki back to bed so that they might indulge themselves in worldly passions once more, just once more until the affairs of the day were over and the two could return to their room in order to be together for the too-short night._

Natsuki cleared her throat and shook the memory of this morning from her mind, though she was, to her chagrin, unable to wipe the rosy blush from her cheeks, "S-Sorry," she mumbled, digging her hands into her pockets and fighting the urge to toe the ground with her black combo-boots, "I came here to see if I could commission you."

A man emerged through the thick air. His shoulders were heavy and stooped. He was massively barrel-chested, his longish hair and full beard flecked with gray, streaked with steel, his eyes black and narrow, his appearance and carriage like an hulking Odysseus newly stepped from the sea, swarthy and hardened from years abroad, years of battle, his face heavy with worry lines though still striking, somehow ruggedly handsome despite his brutish, almost animalistic in nature. A cigar was clenched between his teeth. He drew in deeply, making the end glow a deep red, like the red of Shizuru's eyes when she was angered or impassioned, before he reached up with squared fingers, squat and rough, and plucked it from his mouth. A fleck of cigar ash fell to his leather apron. Curls of smoke slithered from his lips, from the dark cave of his mouth and when he spoke, it were as though his voice was smoke itself, "And what might this commission be?"

A pinkish tongue quickly darted out and wet Natsuki's lips, "Uh...Th-That would be a saddle."  
Dark bushy eyebrows rose, something incredulous in their movement though the rest of the man's face did not alter in any way shape or form, "Seeing as this is a tanning facility and I am a tanner...Yes. I do believe I can make a saddle for you."

Was that sarcasm? His words suggested that perhaps there was a hint of facetiousness there, but his tone was completely inflectionless.

"Well...Of course..." Natsuki fiddled with the ends of her hair and just barely stopped herself from kicking at a lip of stone jutting up from the ground, an irregularity in the floor's foundation, "But this isn't a normal saddle."

He grunted and brought the blunt cigar back up to his mouth, speaking around it's clipped end, "A saddle's a saddle. Unless you got yourself a monster of a horse, I'm sure it'll fit the same. Just get yourself a bigger girth."

"No. I don't think you understand," she decided to just come out and say it, "It's not for a horse."

Something like a snort of laughter, bitten off behind his cigar, came from the man, "If you're looking for a saddle to ride a person, I don't take those sorts of commissions."

A fierce blush stained Natsuki's face, rising up from her neck all the way to her hairline. Her mind was suddenly consumed with the thought of Shizuru wearing a saddle. Of Shizuru strapping a saddle onto _her_. Of Shizuru tugging leather boots up her thighs. Of Shizuru's breasts pressed together from a tight leather corset, revealing a hefty portion of cleavage. Of peeling those tight leather's from Shizuru's body, slowly unlacing each and every article.

"No!" Natsuki stated firmly, suppressing the stammer that threatened to rise up in her words at her nervousness, at her sudden flurry of arousal, "That's not what I meant! It's for a wolf!"

He chuckled, obviously amused at her reaction, "A wolf?" something that looked suspiciously like a grin could be seen behind his curling beard, "I've heard Viola likened to many things, but a wolf? That's new."

The girl gaped, mouth moving up and down like a fish out of water, "Y-Y-You _knew_!" she

blurted out incredulously, "You knew who I was the moment I came in here!"

"Don't take me for a fool," he growled, turning away from her and stoking the furnace with a few well placed prods of one of his tools, "I may be a grunt from the lower levels, but I know what goes on around here."

Natsuki's rising temper got the better of her, "Then I'm sure you know all about the animals in the dungeons," she said through gritted teeth, "One of which has been placed under my care. A wolf. Duran. I took him for a ride, but I want a saddle to be made. Which is why I'm here," her voice had lowered to a growl just as fierce as the burly man's own, and he watched her with an appraising gaze as her emerald eyes flashed through the stench of tanning leather, "So either you can make me a saddle, or you can't."

Swinging the iron tool over his shoulder, bare arms like tree branches, he gave her a genuine smile that gleamed through the poorly lit space, surprisingly white against his fire and sweat darkened skin, "Calm down, lass!" he chortled through the cigar stuck into the side of his mouth, "I'll make you your saddle. Although," he winked devilishly at her, "if you want something on the lines of attire for Viola, I'll make an exception."

Swallowing past an obstruction in her throat, Natsuki felt her anger being tempered and she shook her head ruefully, "Don't tempt me. I might just take you up on that."

* * *

"Callisto."

A soldier saluted as Mai opened the door. Her lilac eyes blinked. The soldier was actually wearing a helmet indoors. It wasn't exactly wrong or even discouraged, but it was decidedly odd. Soldiers rarely wore their helms indoors, and it was especially rare for them to do so in the hallway in which their own quarters were situated. Mai, as senior officer just beneath Midori, had the room at the head of the corridor.

"A letter for you, Ma'am."

Mai glanced down to see an envelope being proffered in a gloved hand. She took it with a dismissive salute that looked more like an impatient wave. The soldier returned the salute with a sharper one before promptly marching off back down the hall. Arching her brow, Mai just shook her head and retreated back into her room, closing the door behind her. She turned the envelope over in her hands. The parchment was of excellent quality. There was no address on the outside of the envelope. In fact, there was nothing written on the outside of the envelope at all.

_Curious_, she thought to herself as she sat upon her bed.

Sliding her finger beneath the lip of the envelope, she tugged the letter free and flipped it open.

When she saw that neat, precise handwriting, black and almost spiky looking, the blood froze in her veins.

This was Reito's handwriting.

Leaping from her place on the bed, Mai tore the door open and looked down the hall, searching for the soldier.

But there was no soldier. The soldier was long gone.

Deep gulps of air made Mai's breast rise and fall and she looked wildly around. Luckily, nobody else was in the hall to see her reaction, to see their officer so utterly confused, so lost. Realising where she was, she slipped back into her room and locked the door carefully behind her.

She leaned up against the back of the door, sliding down to the floor until she was crouched, her knees bent before her, clutching the letter in her hands. For a few moments, she did nothing but stare unblinkingly at the words, seeing but not reading, neither internalising nor processing the information presented on the page. This was bad. This was very bad. She couldn't read this. She shouldn't read this.

But then her eyes finally took in the words, and she could do nothing to stop it.

_My dearest Mai,_

_ One of your soldiers on the Eastern Front was captured by my men not a few days past. It was so strange, seeing an Artemisian after so long, an Artemisian that was not you, that is. The soldier himself was of no interest to me. Rather, it was his helmet that caught my attention._

_ I wonder what you see in those black visors of your precious Huntress' regime. The inside of such helms must be incredibly dull and unbearable, yet their reflective surfaces offer something far more chilling, far more thrilling for your gaze. Perhaps you sit upon your bed each night and gaze at it, seeing your own distorted reflection looming from the slick darkness. How terrible the glare must be, wreathing your image in a sickly halo, a parodic aureoling of your painfully human brow. It must be like looking into a still pool cast in the shadow of the unbreached wood, mouth moving, sound but a pale echo, ever an echo washing, washing through the sylvan surroundings._

_ Though, as I write this, it strikes me that you are so much more than a meagre myth; maugre being so young and untender! Dearest Mai, you are so much more..._

_ You must think that I mock you by saying this. You must that that this is but a written endeavour to further haunt you from afar. I assure you, that is as far from the truth as could possibly be. The truth is, Mai, that __you__ haunt __me__._

_ I claim no victimisation here-how laughable! And hardly laudable!-far from it. I harbour no illusions concerning your captivity, for I did capture you and keep you prisoner. But, in turn, you captured me. I am reminded of a certain quote by Horace, "Graecia capta ferum victorem cepit et artis intulit agresti Latio." Or, as you would know it in English, "Captured Greece took captive her savage conqueror and brought her arts into rustic Latium." How true! How bitter the draught of irony! How it winds a searing trail down my throat, so like the amorous affection you used to rain upon me night after night, burning me up inside! I am consumed by the very memory of you._

_ Just the other day, I came across some abandoned affects of yours in my quarters. 'Twas a pair of stockings, no more than a silken slip of twins in troth. The image of you soared back to me, drowning me in the curse of Mnemosyne: the way you would don your stockings, sliding your nimble fingers along smooth calves, pinning the taut garters at your thighs, the way you would run a comb through your long hair until it crackled before you cut it and left me, the way you would then rise from the vanity and let loose the sheer robe from your shoulders, slipping down your back and arms, tumbling to your legs, your delicate ankles, the way you would saunter over to me, the way you command a room, the way you stand out in a crowd, simply by your stature, your carriage._

_ You once told me that you descended from nobody of great, aristocratic stock. You are wrong. Regality is in your very stride, living in your skin, your unflinching gaze._

_ Some things can not be inherited._

_ Some things do not need to be._

_ Why, you must be wondering, am I taking the undeniable risk of sending this letter just to tell you this? Are these not superfluous sentiments that I have already conveyed so many years ago?_

_ To be able to say these things necessitates risk, in my mind. 'Tis not a recent development, Mai; I have cared for you for so long now. When did it begin? Whence did it stem? Where lies the root, the sap, the sticky germination? I can not say. No coup took place. No swift declaration of despotism. 'Twas a gradual usurpation, my love for you, that overcame my every sense and fragile reserve of reason. And yet, I feel strangely grateful for your place in my life, as brief as it may have been. Looking back, I can only wish that it had lasted longer, that we may have had more time together; no marriage can be easily severed, even if the union be in name alone and not in holy communion._

_ Why, then, did you leave me, Mai? To this very day, I do not fully understand. Perhaps I never will, and it will simply remain a mystery that I must continue to bear. Know that I wish to understand. Ergo, I have been looking over our last few moments together in the foolish hope that I may one day be able to know what action of mine so thoroughly wronged you._

_ You told me when you left that you would never forgive me. You told me that you would hunt me down, no matter the cost. You told me that you would take away all that I hold dear, just as I had don to you, and then you told me that you would end my life._

_ I admit, fully, without hesitation, that I took many things from you, most notable among them being your parents. However, I gave you so many things in return. And then when you accused me of slaying your beloved brother, your innocent Takumi, I was rendered speechless. Do you not remember, Mai? I promised you that I would not harm him and I am being sincere when I tell you that I never did harm him. You told me that you were leaving me because I had betrayed your trust, because I had killed Takumi when I promised to keep him safe, even provide for him._

_ I do not understand, Mai._

_ I never killed your brother._

_ Takumi yet lives._

_ No, my dear, I am not lying. I would never lie to you about something as vitally important as I know this is to you._

_ I miss you, Mai. I hope you can forgive me for the sins I have committed, and I hope you can uncover the truth of those crimes which I would never dream of committing. _

_ Forever yours,_

_ R. K._

* * *

**No. No long author's note at the end of this chapter. Frankly, I don't think it's needed. If you have any questions, however, I'd be glad to answer them. Send me a review or a PM and we'll talk! If not, then I almost always answer pressing questions in the beginning author notes of the subsequent chapter.**  
** Until next time!**

** -Kore**


	34. Chapter 34

**Salvete, omnes!**

** I would have updated earlier, but I also did an update of one of my other fics, hence the delay for this one. Do not fear, though. I shan't be abandoning this fic. I consider it my precious baby, after all. (Cor...I sound like a doting mother...Blech.)**

** And we're back in Plotland, that dread vale. I know, I know. Groan all you like, but 'tis necessary for the progression of things. I'm afraid there's absolutely no ShizNat in this. They'll be returning shortly, I assure you, but not before I get some good old fashion violence in there. This chapter isn't violent, actually, but it preludes a great deal of violence. The characters are in a war, after all, and I felt that we were rather wanting in terms of blood and gore and battle scenes. So! Here we go!**

** Enjoy!**

** Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

Mai was standing before Midori's desk, alert, staring straight ahead over her head, refusing to look at her. She was afraid that if she looked at Midori, the woman's perceptiveness would pierce right through her. these days, Mai felt so transparent. Her superior had always been excellent at reading people - how else would she have been able to gain the position as leader of the Cynthian Company - but now, the District Officer knew that trouble shone in her lilac eyes. She could not trust herself to meet Midori's gaze without giving something away.

_Damn Reito,_ she cursed in her mind, _Everything is always his fault. Why can't he just...disappear._

_I wish he had never existed. I wish he had never accidentally found me. I wish...I wish I could just go back to the life I had before..._

But that was impossible. Things would never change. She was stuck in this life. They were all stuck in this life, struggling to emerge as unscathed as was possible.

Finally, she worked up the courage to say curtly, "Permission to return to Phaesporia, Ma'am?"

Midori had been blatantly ignoring her District Officer for the last two minutes, stoutly reading the various reports scattered across her desk and sucking noisily on a lollipop. Now, however, she glanced up with a quirked eyebrow and, after a long pause, she returned to her reading and announced dryly around her sweet, "Permission denied."

But Mai was persistent, "If I may be so bold, Ma'am..."

"No, you may not be so bold," Midori retorted dryly.

"There are things I need to see to in Phaesporia," Mai continued, ignoring her superior's sarcasm, still staring over her head, "I shall only be a few days, then I shall return promptly."

A loud suction noise followed by a pop filled the room as Artemis pulled the red lollipop from her mouth and aimed a well-placed glare over the edge of her paper, "The answer is still no."

"But..." she was running low on excuses, "You let Nao go back!"

At this, Midori just stared, incredulous, "Do you _really_ think that'll convince me?" she began, sounding almost insulted, "I am not your mother! You can't use that sort of excuse like you're reporting your sibling's infringement of household rules!"

Mai felt her face redden from embarrassment, but she said nothing.

With a derisive snort, Midori returned to her reading and said with mild disgust, "Get out of my sight."

Mai left, silently fuming.

* * *

London at night was a silent, brooding city. Oh, there were still noises, that perpetual sound that pervaded large cities, but as a whole it was quiet. The noise and lights were muffled by the thick cloud-cover that always seemed to hang over the city, looming like the heady glower of a tyrant god, plotting the demise of its unfortunate, unwary victim, poised in the heavens above with waiting hands to crush the city and all its inhabitants.

Atop one of the spires off London Bridge, two shadowy figures were perched. They stood together atop the tower, looking out over the water, which glistened in the light of the night like a dark serpent of a river winding through the lands, looking out onto the city of London. The scent of rain was upon them, ready to weep from the heavens, but they made no appearance of departing anytime soon.

Maria turned to Reito, back in her aged form for it had been almost a week since she last

fed, "It seems the letter has been delivered."

"Indeed," came the Black Prince's cool reply, the city sparkling in his dark gaze. A gust of wind caught up his long coat and stirred its hems around his thighs. The cravat at his neck was pulled from his doublet and its ends brushed back. Still, he looked as elegantly composed as ever, this creature of the night.

"And what," Graceburt continued in a hiss, her crimson eyes narrowed, "do you plan to do now, O wise Székely?" Her voice was scathingly facetious.

"Now," Reito murmured with a smirk, amused at his companion's tone, "Now we wait and follow the rabbit back to its hole."

* * *

It was not that Nao hated books. In fact, she rather liked them. Horror had always been her genre of interest. Horror and mysteries. Both had a special place in her heart. She could remember spending night after night reading such books, feeling especially victorious when she correctly guessed the killer's identity. These past two days, however, she had spent so much time in Phaesporia's Library that she wanted to send the place up in a blaze from a few well-placed matches lying conveniently in her pocket.

Tome after tome after tome had been piled up around her until she was veritably buried in books. She sat at one of the long oaken tables set up in an area of the Library, equipped with lights at every three metre interval, capped with green glass. Before her lay a spread of photographs and sketches. the one that was currently her primary interest had been badly crumpled from wear, even though it had just been taken. It was one of the many photos Takeda had taken at the most recent crime scene, a photo of the strange sign drawn in the victim's own blood.

Nao had looked through every black magic book in Phaesporia for an explanation to no avail. She'd even turned to healing magic and other such positive spells with no results. There was an incredible amount of information on witchcraft and necromany that the Artemisians held, but still this particular sigil had cropped up no results nor answers of any variety. There had been but one article in an ancient, crumbling text that had threatened to fall apart in Nao's hands, with anything remotely similar to the conundrum on her hands. The article had been short, however, and fragmented at best. Not to mention cryptic as hell. Written all in Latin, Nao had thus been forced to brush up on her rusty Medieval language skills. Even then, much of it had eluded her. It turned out, the article was not written in Medieval Latin, but in Classical Latin, with all manner of allusions she had not understood.

At first, the Operative had scoffed, thinking that there was little to no difference between the two. A trip to Dr. Sagisawa, though - the Company's current leading expert in ancient languages - had shown her just how wrong she was. The Doctor's eyebrows had shot up when she had first seen the document and she had dropped everything she was doing to read it. After that, she had requested to see the actual text with a facade of forced calm. Puzzled, Nao had taken her to the library just a short walk from the Medical Ward and Sagisawa had all but pressed her face and hands up against the glass that shielded the text.

It was naught but a slip of harshly woven linen, thready and unravelling at the edges, darkened with age to an earthy brown. Barely discernible were the blockish letters in faded ink slanting across it at an angle. Nao had stumbled across it completely by accident. When she had opened another book, this had fallen out, fluttering to the floor. The Head Librarian had almost died from a heart attack when the Operative had showed it to him.

After numerous tests, Yohko had informed her that she had somehow discovered an ancient fragment from mummy wrappings. As far as the doctor could tell, it had originated somewhere in North-Eastern Egypt, dating from the mid fourth century AD. When and how it had come into the possession of the Artemisians, nobody could tell. Truthfully, though, that was not what interested Nao. She just wanted to know what it said. It took some hassling, but she finally pried Sagisawa away from the bio-chemical tests so that the coroner could actually translate the damn thing for her. Grumbling all the while, Yohko had written up in her messy doctor's scrawl a translation and promptly returned to work.

Now, the Operative glared down at the translation.

"O, Libitinaeus Libitina!  
O, Libitina Libitinaeus!  
[...]knowingly  
clutches thine robes [...]  
Blackest night like winged  
glory sung.

O, Libitinaeus [Libitina]!  
[O, Libitina] Libitinaeus!  
Bird of death [...]  
Hear my plea [...] my soul  
[...] sent forth to fields  
of smoke and crowns." (1)

And then, at the edge of the linen, there was a circle, half eroded, with strange markings similar to the sigil on all the crimescenes.

With a growl of frustration, Nao ran a hand through her flaming red hair. How on earth was she supposed to make sense of this utter babble? The poem made no sense. According to Yohko, it was some sort of prayer, or a poem modelled after a prayer to allow the person's soul in question wrapped in the thin strips of linen to pass on to the other world, the realm of spirits and the souls of the dead.

_How the hell is that supposed to help me?_

Just then, her phone buzzed in the pocket of her jacket, which had been tossed over the back of the neighboring chair. Frowning, she fished it into the open and looked at the e-mail she had just received. What she saw made her eyes widen in astonishment.

_Dear Operative Yuuki_,

_ I hear you are having difficulty identifying something. I feel that I may be of help._  
_ Do not reply to this message. Do not report this message. If you want my help, meet me tomorrow afternoon on Waterloo Bridge. _

_ I'll be waiting._

_ -Nagi_

* * *

**(1): This poem was modelled after Catullus 61, which was a sort of wedding hymn. Quite a lovely little poem, really. Instead of a marriage, though, this particular poem that I created was supposed to be far more...morbid. Labitina is the Roman personification of death. She is an obscure goddess and she was rarely physically portrayed. Ergo, she has sort of faded throughout history and been overshadowed by other more popular deities. Still, she had a place in poetry and funerary rights. Horace mentions her in Odes 3.30, if you'd like to take a gander. Also, the little [...] moments are supposed to indicate fragments or missing pieces of the poem. **

** In any case, I hope you enjoyed it!**

** -Kore**


	35. Chapter 35

**Salvete, omnes!**

**Here we are again for the weekly update. Warning, this involves quite the cliffhanger. For that, I am truly sorry. Alas, y'all will just have to wait for another week until you get the next installment! :)**

**Yes, yes, I'm a mean old author. So what. Isn't that why you all love me? For the suspense I offer? **

**In any case, enjoy!**

** Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine**

* * *

Sneaking out of Parliament was no small feat.

In spite of all the warnings, all the denial, all the orders to the contrary, Mai was set upon getting out. She convinced herself that it would only be for a few days. Shiho could handle the workload; she'd proven herself most proficient over the past week or so. Besides, she wouldn't be gone for too long. If she played her cards right, they wouldn't notice her absence for a few hours and that would give her plenty of time to run over to Phaesporia, grab some supplies and be on her merry way.

_Running back to Reito. Again..._the snide voice in her head snickered.

Mai scowled darkly and continued walking. Prometheus swayed on her shoulder, his talons digging into the protective leather pauldron. He was getting heavy of late. If not for the Officer's many years of physical training, she might have been forced to make him fly behind her at all times. Luckily for the brilliantly plumed eagle, however, she was strong enough to support him, for now.

I am _not_ returning to Reito, she snapped back silently, I am just going to track down Takumi. That's all.

_Why do you even bother? Takumi is dead. You know that._

That might not be the case. Reito said -

_Why would you listen to Kanzaki in the first place?_ the voice was suddenly angry, incredulous, _He does nothing but lie!_

If there is even a change, just the slightest change, I must see to it. I must.

The problem was, Mai had never seen Takumi's actual body. Kanzaki had assigned his loyal and deadly henchman (or henchwoman), named Akira, to the safety and regard of Takumi's person when Mai had been in his supposed 'care'. She had never liked the dark, quiet Akira, ever hovering over her sickly brother like a black bird of prey with her sharp, predator eyes. Takumi, on the other hand, had developed a strange liking of her, something Mai had never understood. On one of her lucid days, when she had somehow escaped Reito's hypnotic 'treatments', Mai had found Takumi and held a rapid, hurried conversation with him before Reito could take her away once more.

"_Takumi! Takumi!" she rushed into his room and gathered her precious little brother into her arms, desperate to hold him close and reassure himself that he was breathing, that he was alive, "Thank god you're alright!"_

_Startled, he hugged her back, "Mai? Is everything okay?"_

"_Is everything okay?" she barked out a harsh laugh and clutched him tighter, "You're here under the control of that awful girl while I'm unable to do anything but sit back and watch! No. Nothing about this situation is 'okay'."_

_But what he said next shocked her beyond words._

"_Akira's different," he mumbled into her trembling shoulder, "She's nice to me."_

_At this, Mai pulled back and stared at her kind-hearted brother, "Takumi...She's one of them!"_

"_Yes, but..." his eyes were large and sad, 'I like her. And she likes me. She takes care of me."_

_It was hard to imagine the taciturn vampire girl having any emotion other than cold disdain for everything and everyone around her. Before Mai could say anything more, however, a shadow appeared in the doorway, a shadow with Reito's smooth, silky voice, "So this is where you ran off to," he sounded almost amused, nauseatingly so, "Come along, dearest Mai. Let's leave little Takumi alone."_

_And, God help her, she had departed without another word_.

What had scared her most, however, was what might have been. If Akira had protected Takumi properly, if Akira had every actually cared for him, if Reito had kept his promise, Mai could not safely say she would have escaped. She could not safely say she would have wanted to do so. Whenever she had acted out of turn or displayed dissent of any variety, Reito had threatened her with Takumi's demise or otherwise punished her. Other time, those threats and punishments became less and less frequent. She had almost descended into a state of complete complacency. She had almost allowed herself to be trained like a lap-dog. And for that, she would never forgive Reito. She would never forgive vampires. She would never forgive herself.

That was, by far, the worst, the most painful blow: that somehow it had been her own actions that caused Takumi's death.

_But now_, she thought to herself, _now there is hope._

It may have been a weakly thing. It may have been unfounded, but Mai would rather die that continue living with that sort of doubt weighing down, living, a bruised, pulsating, malignant growth, in her chest.

* * *

Pieces moved across a board. They were nothing more than small, squarish blocks of different lengths and colours. All huddled around one another in various groupings, strategically placed. Grey and blue together commanded the are to the West and int he East was a seemingly chaotic mix of red and green. They gathered, stacked, jumbled: an immense mess of coloured, faceless pieces guarding the space beneath them with a unified, draconic avarice.

Shizuru stared down at the map unfolded on the large table, her red eyes subdued, only emitting the faintest glow, lost in thought. One of her hands rested on the table, her fingers gently stroking with just the pads of her digits, the edge of the map. It was a large sheet made of faux leather, a blown up, topographically detailed sprawl of Europe from England to Turkey. She studied the pieces, the placement of troops, armies on either side, glaring at one another from across rivers and behind mountains.

A part of her had missed this: the strategising, the cold calculations of war. Shizuru had been born into a world of near constant battles and international strife. Planning like this felt like returning home, strange as that may have sounded. It was a comfort. It was soothing. It was something she understood. the world was continually changing, an ever whirling, miasmic sea of metamorphosis. But this...this never changed nor altered in any form. Centuries may pass, may rush by on wings of dark time, but people would continue to kill others, to make war for one reason or another. Oh yes...This was something Shizuru understood well and had, in truth, come to relish.

It does not take much to block empathy from the human mind. Some may think otherwise, but the truth remains. Everyone has a breaking point. After that line has been breached, the return to that state of mind becomes easier with every journey into those ebonous shadows, murky things, that linger in every person. Potential is everything, as it need only be reached for it to be realised and used. It is more dangerous in some than in others, but in Shizuru's case, she was most definitely considered to be in the 'some' category.

"Are you sure about this?"

The Countess glanced up. Midori was sitting not far from the table; those olive green eyes were looking straight at her instead of the map in question, "Of course I am sure," Shizuru replied calmly, "If Reito and Maria are where you say they are, and if your count of their forces is correct, then this battle will be in our favour."

The Cynthian Leader grunted and sat back in her chair, digging into her pockets for a candy purely out of nerves, "I just worry that they are planning something else we don't know about."

Shizuru knew exactly what she was talking about. She, herself, had harboured a strange feeling all throughout the day, a feeling she could not quite place, "An honest fear. Not to mention salient," the Countess circled the map, looking down at the immaculate placement of troops, cool and collected despite the roiling within, "I have no doubt that Reito and Maria are plotting as well. Our main concern is guarding our weaknesses. Here, in Parliament," she tapped a spot on the map where London was located with one long, slender finger, "We are well guarded. I am confident they will not endeavor to strike us here. But," she added, dragging her fingernail just North of London, to the coast, "I have my reservations concerning Phaesporia."

The sound of crinkling filled the air as Midori unwrapped a round butterscotch and popped it into her mouth, "I have limited transportation to and from Phaesporia," she rolled the sweet, clinking, between her teeth, "Nobody should be able to locate it."

As fate would have it, a knock came at the door and Shiho entered. With a respectful bow first to Shizuru then to Midori, she announced calmly, "It has just recently come to my attention that Mai has gone missing."

Shizuru tilted her head in a quizzical gesture, though her face remained a blank mask, "Do you know where she has gone?"

"No, Mistress."

Midori's face, however, had fallen into a look of absolute horror, "_Shit._"

* * *

Wind.

Wind through her hair, gently tangling it in dark waves of fine strands, like a woven tapestry against the backdrop of night. The earth was swallowed up by galloping strides, whisking her across its surface in a rush of clawed up dirt and clumps of grass. Hot breathed pants issued from the muzzle of the wolf beneath her, bearing her forward on its broad back. Sweat matted the dense fur of his flanks and neck. Even through the leather saddle, Natsuki could feel the tensing bunch of his muscles as he sped across the countryside. She, herself, had a thin sheen of sweat across her brow. Together, beneath the light of the moon peeking out from behind wisps of cloud, they were awash with a faint, silvery aura, streaking like pale shades in the midnight hour.

The air felt unusually thick at this time. It were as though she could reach out and carve a cube of smokey atmosphere with her bare hands. Natsuki could not say why things felt this way, but they did. Something was strange. She could smell it. It had been itching at the back of her mind all day, as though someone was watching her, their eyes boring like awls between her shoulder blades. It was what had driven her to seek refuge with Duran, even going so far as to take him for a ride with that newly made saddle - courtesy of the dear Mr. Tanner - in order to escape from Parliament in the hopes that she could, in turn, escape that vexing feeling.

Even Shizuru had felt it. That, alone, made her feel somewhat sane. Somewhat.

That morning, when they had awoken, the two had been rather short with one another, snipping and snapping from the bed to the bathroom and even while they were getting dressed. After a while of this, when Natsuki was stewing in a corner, tugging her boots on with short, angry huffs, Shizuru had heaved a great sigh and walked right up to her, planting a light kiss on her lips.

"I'm sorry," she'd said softly, not meeting her gaze, "It's just...I have a strange feeling today. It's putting me on edge. And for that I apologise."

After that, the two had parted amicably, with promises to see one another later on that day. Now, however, it was nearly midnight and Natsuki was out for a ride. Shizuru had been detained on official business with Midori, which had left Natsuki alone in the Countess' room. Not wanting to have to deal with the stress of being alone with her own thoughts, she had fled to the dungeons, knowing that Shizuru would not be able to get back until late. Too late, for her tastes. But, then again, she did not really have any say in the matter. Their occupations were strange. Their situations were strange.

Shaking her head wearily, Natsuki looked around. Earlier, when she had been riding, it had been without any real purpose. She had simply wanted to get away, if only for a while, with Duran, to escape. Ergo, when she had had no physical destination in mind. Looking around now, however, as the wolf loped over the star-crowned hills, Natsuki realised exactly where it was they were. A few minutes that direction, and she would reach Phaesporia.

Well, she might as well stop by, perhaps see if she could stock up on more ammo for her revolvers. The stores of ammunition in Parliament that the Cynthians had brought with them had not consisted much of what she needed. Not that she had a pressing need for such things, but at target practice the other day in the dungeons of Westminster Palace - set up, of course, by the Artemisians themselves - she had used up much of her ammunition.

Tugging at a leather strap around Duran's neck, which was placed so that it would not choke him, Natsuki directed him by lightly pressing in with her heels. He stopped in a skid of dirt, shaking his great, low-slung head and wagging his tail as she scratched behind his ears.

"Come on, boy," she murmured, "Let's go."

* * *

Twin gazes seared brilliant red, watching. Soaring over-head, the object of their attention continued travelling in blissful oblivion, unaware of the dangers lurking directly nearby. On wings of fabricated shadow, they sped through the night, streaking dark flames. As the moon appeared, they soared beneath clouds instead, hidden from mortal sight. Ahead, the sea raged, pushing, pulling at the coast, dragging small pieces of crumbling earth back into its fathomless depths, a silent, watery doom.

They observed as a lone figure approaching the coast. It flipped open a rock and entered a complicated code into a pad glittering with lights and numbers and letters. A low rumbling rose up from the water, accompanied by a swirling whirlpool in the water. An enormous

Reito Kanzaki turned to his companion with a smile and said, "Would you do the honours of calling in the troops?"

"I would love to," Maria purred in reply.

And hundreds of searing crimson eyes blazed from the darkness beyond them, approaching the entrance of Phaesporia.

Far off, looking through a window at the night sky, towering above London, Mashiro whispered to the night, "So it begins."

* * *

**And now, I am going to do something I have never done before. I am going to write an Omake. Three of them, to be precise. Be warned, they are strange things...Little side comments I thought of in Philosophy class. The last one, in particular, is full to bursting with intellectual shenanigans and for that, I apologise. My mind is naturally a strange and dangerous place. **

**OMAKE #1**

**Natsuki: (lighting the fireplace and burns herself) Ouch! Dammit!**

**Shizuru: (sniffing the air) Natsuki, you're in heat.**

**Natsuki: Yea, I know. I just burned myself. **

**Shizuru: No...I mean...You're **_**in heat**_**.**

**Natsuki: Oh...Well, this is one of those awkwardly kinky hyjinks nobody likes to talk about...**

**Kore: And that, ladies and gents, is why female characters in almost every vamprie story are spared the curse of menstruation!**

**OMAKE #2**

**Athena: Father! Have you heard? There's a fic out that features the Greek gods!**

**Zeus: Why haven't we been notified?**

**Athena: Apparently the author, Kore, thinks the Olympians are cliché.**

**Zeus: (grabs a lightning bolt and hurls it from the heavens)**

**Kore: Noooo! (Zap!)**

**OMAKE #3**

**Anne Rice: Kore! You used my name in a fanfic! LAWSUIT!**

**Kore: Wait! What? And why is Ayn Rand with you?**

**Ayn Rand: LAWSUIT!**

**Kore: But I haven't written anything about trains or steel architects!**

**Vergil: It doesn't negate the fact that you stole from us.**

**Kore: **_**Vergil?**_** You too? Hey, now! Go talk to Homer, you hypocrite!**

**Vergil: Homer and I are cool. We made up in Limbo.**

**Kore: No fair!**

**Vergil: Don't worry. We'll see you down here soon enough, because you **_**certainly **_**aren't going to heaven!**

**Kore: What about Purgatory?**

**Vergil: You're not a Christian.**

**Kore: Fuck...I knew I should have listened to Pascal's Wager...**

**(And now I'm going to stop before all your heads explode from Geek-Overload)**


	36. Chapter 36

**Salvete, omnes!**

** Alas, last week I got slammed with school work (lots and lots of it) and this week I have been sick in bed, doing nothing but drinking tea and watching The Tudors until my eyeballs wanted to fall out of my head. Oh, and suffering from enormously painful headaches. A plus, I suppose, from all that build-up in my sinuses. Needless to say, those are the reasons why I have not updated recently. For the delay, I apologise. **

** I'm glad to see y'all enjoyed the last chapter. Truthfully, I was rather surprised it got such good reviews. I thought y'all were going to condemn me for being cruel. In fact, I was rather looking forward to being thus condemned. I love nothing more than teasing people and then reaping the consequent rewards.**

**Also, I apologise for any weird spacing/formatting issues...fanfic hates me today, apparently.  
**

** But! Enough of all that! On with the show!**

** Enjoy!**

** Dislaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

A light flickered on automatically as Mai rushed into her room at Phaesporia, a pale light, bluish even. The energy system at Cynthian headquarters was a strange and modern thing indeed. Designed to keep the entire underground structure completely off the map with respect to any utility use, Phaesporia was exceptionally self-sufficient. Electricity, water, you name it, everything was recycled or otherwise stored for future use. The earth itself was an excellent source of insulation, therefore necessities like air-conditioning and heating were all but negligible. Mai was not thinking about that as she flitted around her room, however, as quietly and quickly as she was able.

Objects were stuffed into a small, simple rucksack: clothes, a hair brush, a flashlight, a spare hunting knife. Already in a set of civilian clothes—nothing more than a pair of khakis and a grey coat over a lavender turtleneck—she had numerous weapons stashed about her person: knives strapped to her forearms, a gun strapped to her right calf, two more handguns hidden in the recesses of her coat. Spare ammunition had already been acquired and stored safely in a separate pocket of her rucksack. Reaching beneath her bed, Maid retried two thick rolls of cash, a mix of euros and pounds, stuffing one into her coat's breast-pocket, another into a zipped compartment in the lining of her back. She was swinging the bag over one shoulder, the one that Prometheus did not occupy, clutching with all his might so that he wouldn't fall off, when she froze.

Prometheus gave a great, piercing cry, lowering his head and raising his broad, red and gold wings in warning.

"You know," a voice began, Reito's voice, directly behind her, "You really are the most predictable creature."

The blood ran like rivers of ice in her veins. She turned to see her worst nightmare incarnate leaning in her doorway, lazy and composed as a prince.

"Thank you, Mai," gliding forward, his eyes glinting in the light, deep and dark as pools of well-water in an abandoned fortress, poisoned by the rotting flesh of horse carcasses, he smiled chillingly at her, "Thank you for being my predictable little pawn."

* * *

Bach's Goldberg Variations, as played on the harpsichord by the expert hand of Christiane

Jaccottet, trickled softly, soothingly from large speakers situation on the opposite side of the white-tiled room. It's measured patterns created velveteen melodies to which Dr. Yohko Sagisawa worked. Far off, however, came the sounds of some turmoil or another. Probably a few of the interns with the night off.

Without looking up, she ignored the crashing sounds coming from the other room. Currently, she was in the morgue, hard at work. People thought her odd whenever they discovered the true nature of her line of work. Coroners, in general, were generally avoided by the majority of the population. Some things never changed. Not a few centuries back, all who worked with or otherwise handled the dead were similarly ostracised. Death was an unspoken taboo, therefore those who cavorted with the dead were to be avoided at all costs.

And yet, the thing was, Yohko had never really _wanted _to be a coroner. From a young age, she had wanted to be a translator (an odd choice for a child, yes). She had begged her parents to send her to the proper schools so she could pursue her love of languages, and they, kind people that they were, sent her off in order to study at such institutions. For years, she had gone down this chosen path, reveling in all the thrilling patterns of the human tongue. Most of her professors had praised her for her skill, particularly where ancient languages were involved, and she had been happy.

Then the year came that she had been forced to take a mandatory science class. And in that one instance, everything changed.

Yohko had discovered that the expressions of language paled when contrasted by the sharp bas-relief of chemistry. Something there just _clicked_. For the life of her, she could not describe it. There were no words. That fact, in and of itself, proved to be the most staggering to her. Before that moment, there was nothing she couldn't explain, either in lengthy detail or with short, snub-nosed prose. But the soothing cadences of formulae, the gentle swells of patterns rippling outward, all stacking atop one another to create something ineffably glorious, silenced her into an awe that she had never quite recovered from.

There was something greater than the spoken word, and it was the unspeakable word.

From that moment on, she had dedicated herself to as many science classes as her schedule could muster. Because of her undeniable genius, none disputed her claim to what was normally an obscene amount of courses, the type of class load discouraged to the general masses of students who wanted to a) pass and b) not go completely insane.  
It was at university that Yohko had met the infamous Midori. An art-historian, the woman had seemed rather out of place in the science building, sipping her tea and calmly perusing a newspaper. Every day for almost an entire semester, Yohko saw that flame-coloured hair—at that time, far shorter than it was these days—peeking out from behind the floppy ear of a drooping newspaper, noisily sucking on a sweet of some sort, as they both occupied the same lounge. Until, one day, the damnable woman plunked down in the seat directly beside her, snapped open her paper and then commenced to ignore her.

Scowling darkly over a stack of lab reports and textbooks, Yohko had salvaged her mug of steaming coffee from a quick and brutal death before returning to work. The two did not speak a word to one another for weeks, yet the routine continued. At last, when Yohko had been about to open her mouth angrily and give this troublesome stranger a piece of her mind, Midori had riffled through her pocket, drew out a lollipop and, completely silent, still not even looking in her direction, handed it to her. The scientist had just blinked stupidly at the wrapped offering until, with a sigh, she took it. From behind the paper, Midori had smirked at her and she, shaking her head in exasperation, had returned to work per usual.

"And now I'm here," she muttered to herself as she dug around in a man's chest cavity,

her gloves stained with blood, "Oh, how the times change!" When she withdrew, in her hands she held a heart. Delicately, she placed it in the tray of a large, hanging scale nearby and recorded its weight on a sheet of paper, careful not to get even a drop of blood on the report.

A particularly loud peal of sound slammed into the door, startling her.

Growling out a curse, Yohko stripped off her gloves, tossing them into a hazardous waste bin and making her way to the doors. Her colleagues knew she did not like to be interrupted or disturbed in any manner whilst she worked. Someone was going to get a mighty tongue-lashing for this. As she neared the stainless steel, double doors, however, she froze.

Blood seeped beneath the door in a slow puddle, thick and warm, fresh.

Eyes widening, Yohko sprinted to the wall beside the door and, fumbling with the glass and red plastic protective covering, punched the alarm. Sirens blared. The doors locked automatically, bolting shut. Her breathing came to her, shallow, and as her back leaned against the wall, trembling, she recanted to herself over and over facts about the human respiratory system in a frantic attempt to calm herself down.

* * *

"Artemis! There's been an alert!"

Midori glared at the soldier who had reported this to her, "Well, of course there's been a bloody alert!" she snapped back, callous and frustrated, "Headquarters is being _attacked_, isn't it?"

A mixed force of vampires and Artemisians were racing across the countryside from London in large black vans, all stuffed together, jumbling uncomfortably. A few of the soldiers from opposite sides eyed one another warily, as though not sure if the fighting wouldn't break out early, in this very vehicle.

"Midori," came Shizuru's admonishing voice from beside her, "now is not the time to lash out at your own men. Control yourself."

But the Cynthian Leader just rounded on the Countess, hissing quietly to her so that the others couldn't hear, "I don't see why we even needed to bring a whole damned brigade with us, Shizuru! Why don't you just go in there and take care of Kanzaki and Graceburt? You know! Use those creepy powers of yours!"

Shizuru glared down coldly though her eyes seared red through the feeble light of the van, "Do you drop a nuclear bomb on your own forces?" she growled back, "I have very limited control over my 'creepy powers', as you so put it, once they reach such levels. Do you _want_ me to kill everyone in Phaesporia? Because, truly, I am feeling inclined to do so if this is the sort of behavior from the Cynthian Company I'll have to deal with."

For a tense moment, the two bristled at one another. Both were on edge and understandably so. For Midori, those people under her charge were in mortal peril. And for Shizuru, Natsuki was nowhere to be found. There was only a faint residue of her scent in the distance, sweet and alluring as fresh rain issuing in through an open window, and that scent led right into the waiting arms of Reito and Maria, the last place Shizuru wanted her to be.

"Oh -! Damn it all to hell!" Midori swore, breaking their infantile staring match, "Find your precious Kruger once we get there, if you must, but I expect you to be on the front lines immediately afterwards!"

"Duly noted," came Shizuru's wry retort.

* * *

Alarms blared throughout Phaesporia, making its inhabitants alternately wince, start or otherwise cringe from the strident noise.

Natsuki frowned at the red light flashing above the nearby door. Normally, she knew she should have felt, well, _alarmed_, but she didn't. The lights and the blaring sirens were the least of her worries, in fact, and somehow she knew that. If anyone had asked her how exactly she knew, she would have just stared at them blankly, searching for the right terms. But what feeble implements of mere language could possibly convey raw instinct? There were no words. There was only an eerie sense of calm.

And then she heard something else beyond the trumpet of alarms. Something soft. Quiet. Not even realising what she was doing, Natsuki raised her head and sniffed. The scent in the air, winding through the atmosphere, was nothing at all like the noise which accompanied it. Pungent. Acerbic. It was like a dark and sinister thread stitched through the cloth of air all around and about, making Natsuki wrinkle her nose in faint disgust. She knew this smell. This was the scent of death and its harbingers.

Descendants of the Keres in Phaesporia? Were they Shizuru's? Or did they belong to someone else? The prospect of vampires in Phaesporia was cause enough to worry, but vampires that were possibly a threat in Cynthian Headquarters itself? She suddenly worried about her decision to leave Duran tied up to a tree outside. She was only supposed to be gone a minute! Perhaps she should finish up here and go check.

Before she could do so, however, Natsuki's body tensed. The scent was stronger now, strong enough to make the back of her throat tickle in outrage, threatening to gag. What was the matter with her? She had never had this strong a reaction to those vampires over in Parliament. Why now? What was it about this particular foe that set her teeth so on edge, that made her nerves twitch anxiously, that made her eyes narrow until they were nothing more than glaring green slits. Flicking the holsters at her thighs, Natsuki edged behind a nearby crate for cover, eyeing the door suspiciously, waiting, watchful.

With a crash, the door came flying off its frame, slamming into the floor a good ten meters away, the metal screeching and clanging together in a dissonant symphony. Wincing, Natsuki peered around her crate, slipping her guns into her hands as she did so. The weight of the snub-nosed revolvers felt comfortable in her hands, soothing somehow. She lightly stroked the hammers with her thumbs. Every nerve in her body was screaming, as though on fire, for her to burst into action; the pent-up adrenaline was causing her breath to shake slightly. Slowly, she crouched, ready to move at a moment's notice.

Six vampires stormed into the room, glancing about with their fierce, crimson gazes. All

wore identical uniforms, military in style, black as night, their faces obscured by strange masks of ink-dark cloth that left nothing visible but the slits of their eyes, glaring out, evil leering things, like those of gargoyles clutching at cathedral turrets. They moved as a syncronised team, a well-trained machine, made to move together, to work together. They fanned out, one by one, across the room, seeking something.

Natsuki may not have known what it was they were looking for, but she was sure it wasn't anything good. One thing was for certain: she wasn't going to wait to find out.

Darting out from her hiding place, weapons drawn, she aimed and fired.

One down.

Five heads snapped in her direction. Hisses and snarls, animalistic, accompanied the rush of

soldiers. They were coming towards her now, heads lowered. Not trusting her mind, she let instinct take over. Shots rang out.

Two more dissolved in ashen heaps. Two of the remaining three continued their blind charge and she disposed of them quickly enough, but the last was far more clever and ducked behind a stash of ammunition, waiting. Striding forward, Natsuki rounded the corner. The last of her targets sprang forward, striking a wasting blow across her face. At least he would have, had she not ducked down to one knee, pressed one of her gun into his side and pulled the trigger. Whirling ash cascaded around her. Sneezing, Natsuki brushed the ash from her clothes, shaking her head to loosen it from her hair. Grimacing in disgust, she stood, even going so far as to shake herself like a dog.

"Blech," she spat and wiped her mouth, "I think some went in my mouth."

The smell was stronger now. Understandable, considering that she had flaky vampiric remains all over her at the moment. But then she heard something behind her that made her freeze. A voice. A woman's voice, though still hard as steel.

"What a surprise this is."

Slowly, Natsuki turned. An elderly woman stood in the doorway. She wore a plain grey dress only a slight shade darker than her short hair. Her green eyes looked out over the space between them, a lighter peridot to Natsuki's deep emerald. Her gaze was appraising, weighing Natsuki's every move like a fencing opponent across the strip, face hidden from behind tightly woven wire mesh, eyes glittering faintly.

"Who the hell are you?" Natsuki asked, gripping her revolvers tighter.

The woman stepped further into the room, "I," she began imperiously, chin tilting up, "am Maria Graceburt."

_Shit_.

Natsuki knew that name. That was not a name which boded well for her or for the Cynthian Company. Before she could even respond, however, the woman had vanished and reappeared directly in front of her. Frantically, she raised her guns and fired. The air before her seemed to blur, queer shapes all smeared before her of a thick gray, like mist. After a few moments, Natsuki stopped and the air thickened into the form of Maria Graceburt standing there, untouched as fresh morning snow. Without warning, the guns were knocked from Natsuki's hands, clattering to the floor.

Looking up, Natsuki only saw a triumphant smirk curling those thin lips before the vampire queen lashed out.

Time slowed to a crawl.

Languidly, Natsuki moved. Maria's movements looked almost sluggish. Translucent rings wound around the vampire's arm as it thrust forward, rippling through the air as an indication of its alacrity. And yet...Natsuki dodged it without even thinking. Her body moved of its own accord, fluidly reacting. She leaned to the side, torso twisting as her right foot swung out to support her shift in weight and, staring, she watched—observed almost, like a spectator to some other person's corporeal form—as Maria's arm passed right by, hitting nothing but air.

An expression of such utter astonishment painted the vampire's face, that Natsuki almost laughed.

The world returned to normal speed, Maria snapped back into her former static position and pierced the girl with an intense look, "You are not human."

It was not a question.

"There has been some debate about that," Natsuki countered dryly.

Graceburt, however, didn't seem to want to engage in a casual debate, for, without warning, she struck again.

The two began a bizarre sort of dance. It flourished throughout the room, making the air thicken and ripple, all a whorl of grey and black, the colours of their clothing and hair smeared across the landscape. Maria moved like a serpent, supple and sinuous. At one point, her hand plunged straight through one of the steel-sheathed walls, crumpling the metal as though it were paper before pressing her attack once more. Somehow, though, Natsuki evaded every blow, anticipated every calculated assault. Their fight raged, at once torpid as though underwater yet inhumanly rapid. If anyone were to ask her how she had accomplished such a feat, Natsuki would have only been able to shrug, then made some weakly-worded speculation about Hespera.

In truth, there had come into being a sort of equilibrium within her. It was not something Natsuki could ever hope to explain, but she could feel it. It had begun even before this moment, when she had allowed herself to succumb to her instincts, but the effect was not at all unpleasant. There was something truly breathtaking in the experience, and had she the time to simply cease her actions and savour the luxury of such wholesome sensations, she would have. Now, however, was definitely not the time for such indulgences.  
Panting, Maria stopped a good distance away. She glared at her opponent across the way. Natsuki, herself, had never felt better, and a sense of smug satisfaction pervaded her being. Raw fury adorned the vampire's features, contorting them into something repugnant, monstrous even. The colour of her eyes gave way to a sweep of glowing scarlet, like coals nestled deep within the cavernous depths of her gaze, "I tire of this folly!" she spat, baring her fangs with a deep-rooted snarl, the air around her darkening with a black haze.  
Natsuki, on the other hand, merely grinned, a light-hearted gesture offset by the hard clench of her jaw. "Two can play at that game," her voice grated out, feeling Hespera begin to rise within her, threatening to overcome her, to tip the long-desired balance.

"You can not possibly hope to beat me," Maria sounded almost incredulous, short huffs of laughter issuing out from between pants.

But Natsuki just widened her grin; Hespera was there, but the living power had ceased its struggle with her will, moulding to her grasp like warm clay. Energy sizzled beneath her skin, lighting a blaze that scraped off the surface of her body until thick tendrils of white-hot flame flew about her person and she resembled a cold, distant star, her eyes like emerald pinpricks of thunder flashing out from the brilliance, "Let's find out, shall we?"

* * *

**Alright-y! That's it for this chapter! Hope y'all liked it.**

**Until next time!**

**-Kore**


	37. Chapter 37

**Salvete, omnes!**

**My most sincere apologies. I am dreadfully late with this update and I know it. Things have been rather different these days. School, I'm used to. Romance, however, is something that is rather foreign to me. A certain someone has been taking up all of my time these days, so if you're going to blame anyone for my tardiness, blame her. :P**

**Anywho! Personal time is over and now I must revert to being the mysterious author about whom y'all know next to nothing.**

**I'm glad y'all liked the last chapter. Sorry about the cliffhanger. Again. I do write those quite a bit, don't I? Unintentional, I assure you. These things just happen sometimes. Really! I'm not lying, here! I don't actually **_**mean**_** to put y'all through so much suspense and anticipation...Ahem...Ok, that's a lie. a big fat lie. So what? Sue me.**

**In any case! On with the show!**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

She felt as though she were in a sort of trance. Things moved in a slower, languid pace, all liquid and thick. The light trickled down from the ceiling yet seemed to fade away once it reached the figure before her. Those black eyes burned into her, alive with a dark fire. The hulking shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist, everything about him bladed and aristocratic.

Reito smiled at her, a sharp, edged grin, revealing dagger-like canines dripping over rows of clean, white, even teeth, "You should never have left me, Mai," he murmured, his supple footsteps bearing him smoothly forward, slow and slithering as a winding cloud round a mountain bend.

A whimper died in her throat. She tried to look away, but could not break from his gaze. Like a mesmerizing snake, he pierced her with his eyes, rooting her in place, until she shivered like a soft-furred mouse caught in the slippery coils of this ageless predator. As he approached, he seemed to expand before her, raising his scaly backs, sleek and shining from discarded skin, tongue flickering out like a flame to momentarily taste the air, to savour her fear.

This was a feeling Mai understood well. Entrapment had become a second home to her. It frightened her how familiar a haunt she found it, how easily she slipped into this role of supplication, kneeling before the progenitor of all her terrors made flesh. He had released the floodgates of fear and now they were pulling her in their swirling eddies, their merciless tides; she was drowning in it all.

"I missed you, Mai," his whisper was suddenly a moist breath on her neck, tickling the fine hairs beneath her ear, "Come back to me."

A great cry sounded out and Reito stepped back just enough to not get bitten by Prometheus. The eagle spread its wings wide behind Mai, glaring at him with those fierce eyes, sharp beak gleaming in the light. Reito tilted his head at the animal, tsking at it and wagging a finger as though admonishing an unruly child before turning and saying softly to his prey, "You should really put a leash on your pet."

And then, everything went black.

* * *

Lights flickered, making the head whirl and spin. Midori stepped over the body of a fallen soldier. The halls were littered with them, all strewn about, tumbled over one another in careless abandon. Occasionally, there was evidence of the remains of the children of the Keres, piles of ash, streaked across the floor, scuffed from the frantic movement of boots scrambling over them, even smudged within the fibers of clothing. Midori's own shoes, normally a pristine white leather, bore traces of filth, an oily grey-black.

"Jesus..." she breathed, keeping the silvery Glock in her hands steady as she gazed around. Her fingers flexed around it and her olive eyes gained a steely quality. After her world had been destroyed, her family ripped apart, Phaesporia had become her home. To see it in this condition, to witness its downfall...

A growl escaped her. Squaring her shoulders, she continued forward. Camilla padded behind her, heavy head slung low, the strong muscles in her back bunching then sliding free as she walked. Blood stained the lioness' powerful jaws, dripping from her panting mouth, dark and clotted with gore. Two of the soldiers she had come with followed her closely, silent in their blue and grey armour, their faces hidden behind the black, reflective visors of their helms. The others had gone their separate ways at Midori's behest, fanning out through the underground building, trying to salvage what they could. She feared they may have arrived too late.

_Damn it, Mai_.

Clenching her teeth, she withheld yet another irate noise. She had tried activating the tracking device in every Artemisian weapon, knowing that her District Officer would keep such weapons on her at all times, but Mai, it seemed, was cleverer than that. She'd disabled them, taking apart her weapons in the process and reassembling them. Now, Midori had no idea where she was. She could make a well-thought out guess, though. Mai would need supplies, else she wouldn't have returned to Phaesporia.  
They reached the door she was looking for. Motioning with her head, Midori stepped back and let her soldiers step forward. Flanking the door, one of them reached out carefully and opened it.

Darkness.

An unnatural black. It consumed the room within, leeching out the flickering light from outside of it, drawing it in like a plague leads its victims to a cold and early grave, luring like a siren temptress to the wafting, swelling sea, calling to mast-tethered men. (1)

Whispers came from it, shadowy things, deep and resonant. Mesmerizing, they seeped forth, singing their chanting song, a low, lyric lullaby, licked through raven flame, soot and sulfur.

The limbs of the soldiers loosened; their heads lolled. Guns clattered to the floor. The darkness reached out and slowly devoured them in all but an instant until there was nothing left, no trace of their existence, ingested by the hiemal silence of death of a creeping death.

Midori stared. She could not move. She was fixed where she stood. All she could hear, all she knew was the wretched lull, like a frigid breath of wind issuing in a soft wheeze from mountains fresh with snow and rime-riddled pine. Her grasp loosened on her weapon. Her head slowly rose as though to better hear its call. Without knowing what she was doing, her foot moved, then the other, dragging her inexorably forward. Some part of herself rebelled, screaming out in the back of her mind, but the rest was blank, utterly overwhelmed, steeped in the song.

A flash of white appeared before her. It was Camilla, crouched low. A deep snarl rumbled in her throat, contorting her muzzle and baring her fangs.

For a moment, the darkness paused as though somehow sentient, considering this new addition before it until, suddenly, it gathered together, solidified into a single form. The song faded, though it still lingered in the background, clinging to the walls. The lights stabilised, ceasing their rapid, uneven surges, gracing the form of Reito Kanzaki, the Black Prince. He stood before her now, studying Camilla curiously.

"What _are_ these adorable creatures?" he knelt before Camilla and tapped her nose, withdrawing his hand before she could bite it off, as she tried, snapping her jaws and lunging forward, "I knew Tate was experimenting but this..." he grinned, "...this is just cute!"

The lioness reared up, slashing with her broad paws. Faster than the eye could see, Reito batted her aside almost lazily, a bored expression on his face. Camilla's body went skidding along the hall, limp and boneless as a rag-doll.

"Not to mention annoying," Reito murmured, arching his brows and shaking his head, looking at Midori as though sharing a conspiratorial moment with an overindulgent parent. He sped forward, seeming to appear right before her, all manner of playfulness gone from his expression, fled, "Just like you, Artemis."

Midori felt the breath leave her body the nearness of him. She could not say why, but his very presence filled her with a sort of indescribable dread, a revulsion of that she could not put to words. She wished for nothing more than to withdraw, to shrink away from him, but was unable to do so. His very eyes upon her made her feel _unclean_ somehow. It was the deadness of his gaze, the lizard-like quality of them. She was surprised to not see slits for pupils there. His eyes burned a dim scarlet, searing into her, filing through all of her memories, bringing every terrible though she'd ever had to the very fore of her mind. She was not sure if he could actually read her thoughts, but she could not be completely sure. The idea made a small shiver run down her spin, chilling her ribs.

He glared down at her, upper lip curling, "You have no idea how long I've wanted to kill you, Artemis: the thorn in my side," he grasped her left arm and dug his fingers painfully into the flesh there, "And now...Now I will enjoy myself."

In a swift movement, he'd ripped off one of the sleeves of her suit. Crimson eyes studied the flesh of her arm, and his nails, though not particularly sharp, began to cut into the skin just above her elbow. She could not cry out. She could not make even a whimper of pain. She could only watch as he slowly severed the muscles there, fiber by fiber. When he had gotten deep enough to his satisfaction, he lowered his sleek, dark head and bit. A sickening series of cracks and crunches filled the air. Inside of her, something was shrieking, clawing at the cages of her mind to be released, to no avail. Her vision began to falter, fading in and out, from white to black, threatening to drop her into a bottomless pit.

"Not yet, Artemis," the Black Prince was looking into her eyes once more, the lower half of his face naught but a wide smear of blood, "I'm not finished with you yet. And when we're done," he leaned forward and she could detect the scent of her own death on him, "When we're done, I'll have your second in command and Phaesporia will be no more."

A shot rang out. Reito's face twisted in pain and rage. Whirling around, he dropped Midori onto to find a shaky Mai standing where he'd left her, supposedly incapacitated, in the room behind him. Snarling like an animal, he started forward but was stopped by three more rounds in the chest. High pitched wails, unearthly and resonant, like the howls of slavering Bacchantes rushing through a thickly wooded vale to the wild beat of drum and pipe, escaped him and his face transformed, elongating into something unspeakably monstrous, fanged and stained with the blood of his prey in dark rivulets. Hands trembling, Mai aimed the muzzle of her gun higher and shot him right between the eyes.

With a shriek, the wind stirred all about them, and Reito had fled without a trace.

* * *

"Disgusting."

A horde of vampires looked up from where they knelt, all clustered around a pile of bodies, dead Cynthians one and all, be they soldiers or innocent personnel just doing their jobs. The metallic gleam of the halls and their flickering lights made the vampires seem hollow, their inhumanity somehow enhanced. Their eyes stared, dead and sightless, barely above the level of sentience required of fish. Mouths gaping, they began to rise, staggering to their feet, dripping gore from their hands and jaws.  
Shizuru stood at the opposite end of the hallway, glaring down at them in absolute loathing. Her nose was wrinkled and her eyes flashed with disdain, "You would _dare_ assault me, you revolting creatures?"

Blindly, they made their way forward, over ten and twenty, moving by scent, by external sense, not knowing what it was they sought, only that they craved it, whatever it was. Human blood may have been the main source of sustenance for beings such as they, but to gain power, a descendant of the Keres must devour their kin, to imbibe in their essence and therefore ascend in the great ladder. Little did they know that their adversary was the Source itself. They did not stand a chance.

When Shizuru emerged on the other side of the hallway, she was licking her fingers clean, her gaze like twin gates of horn and ivory that allowed either dream or nightmare from the great depths of Dis. (2) Behind her lay the scattered corpses of her wretched kind, dismembered and lifeless. Seething with black energy, she glided from the hall, the stained hems of her chiton swirling about her legs in elegant bunches, heavy and dark with blood.

* * *

Maria Graceburt stumbled back, tripping over her grey dress, "Wh-What _are_ you?"

Veins of light swirled all around. Natsuki felt elated, indeed better than she could ever remember feeling before. Something was swelling within her chest, like a balloon ready to burst under any manner of pressure. She was walking a fine line and were she not careful, all could fall into oblivion and she could be forever lost. Balanced upon a precipice of power with no idea on how to commence, Natsuki allowed her instincts to overcome her until she was awash in a strange and eerie state of no thought. She moved without conscious effort. She spoke without vigilant intention. All was but a plane of absolute void.

She was a being of energy. She was a celestial entity. She was divinity incarnate.

Gravity was beginning to fail. The earth beneath her feet rumbled and groaned, heaving and gnashing its teeth at her very presence. Her feet lifted from the ground until she lingered just a few centimeters above the floor. The crates in the room began to shudder and rise, breaking into pieces, splintering and wheeling around her as though in orbit. Surges of energy uncoiled from her, all blinding white but for her eyes which shone a dazzling emerald, deep and bright, a true green.

Not waiting for the answer to her question, Maria stumbled away, turning to flee. Before she could reach the doors, however, they shut. With a great cry, the vampire queen tried to break her way out, but her fist bounced off the steel doors where before they would have easily traveled through. Desperate, chest heaving, she whirled around and pressed her back against the wall, reduced to a cowering animal.

Natsuki reached out her hand and suddenly Maria was before her, blinking into existence there. Where the veins of light touched her, they burned, searing off her flesh in large strips until she was writhing before Natsuki, screeching in agony.

Face a blank mask, Natsuki spoke, her voice echoing as though through rooms, as though through dimensions, "I am a denizen of the dawn," with a gesture, Maria was lifted from the ground, hovering at Natsuki's waist-level, "Child of the Keres, I hereby mark you. No sunlight shall you see again lest you perish at its touch. Inhabitants of the night and the dark places of the world should know their place."

Slowly, Natsuki extended her hand and cupped the side of Maria's face. It was an almost delicate gesture, yet the effect was anything but that. Smoke rose from the vampire's face and she howled. The flesh and muscle beneath Natsuki's fingers began to melt and whither away, bubbling at her touch. Maria clawed at Natsuki's outstretched arm, but did nothing. Natsuki could not even feel the vampire's grasp.

The earth stilled. The debris swirling around settled to the floor once more. Serene as a

thunderhead, she released her. Still blazing like a cold, distant star, Natsuki gracefully stepped around her stationary body, slowly departing from the room, leaving Maria a smouldering, crumpled heap on the floor.

* * *

(**1): mast-tethered = the Sirens called to Odysseus with their song. The only reason why he survived was because he ordered his men to tie him to the mast and stop their ears with wax so that they couldn't hear the treacherous song. (also, wow! It's been a while since I've had to give little notes at the end of my chapters! It feels nice educating y'all! If, for anyone, this was merely a nice little easter-egg, then huzzah! I give you a golden star!)**

**(2): twin gates = in Graeco-Roman mythology, there were two gates from Hell. One was made of horn, the other of ivory. Dreams would go through the former. Nightmares the latter. Dis, of course, is another name for "Hell". **


	38. Chapter 38

**Hello, everyone!**

**Again, I apologise for my horrific delay in posting. My excuses remain the same, except this time I have the holidays to point to as well. I'm back at home and trying to enjoy life before returning to the realm of dread yet beloved school. Not much more to say on that point, really, other than I wish you all happy holidays, and a wonderful new year!**

**It has come to my attention that I should give you all a warning at this point in the story. The ending will not be happy. But it won't be sad, either. The ending of this story will be bitter-sweet. Because that's the kind of ending I like best, quite frankly. So! That's it, really. Of course, I'm not going to tell you what the ending will be, only that it's general mood is intended to be bitter-sweet. Hopefully that doesn't drive too many of you away.**

**But! Aside from that! I hope you'll enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine. **

* * *

The world was a spotted whirlpool, streaked through with glaring lights that flashed, pyretic strips, broad. Air felt thick, pressing in from all around like cloth and each breath was a stifled gasp through soaked fibres. Midori's head rolled back and she could hear the breaths ripping through her throat, great ragged swells, like tattered canvas sails cast by Aeolus' untender prisoners, their wailing only drowned by the din of their tethering chains (1). She was not aware that she had hit the floor until she was parallel to it, her face pressed against the cool linoleum, looking into the sightless eyes of one of her soldiers directly opposite of her, coated in a shaggy layer of oily ash. A bloody smear marred his boyish cheek. Half his face had been removed, the jaw yanked brutally from its joints so that he now tasted the earth of his fallen ground with the flaccid spear of his tongue.

Something obscured Midori's vision; she was unable to see anything else but this boy-soldier, for a mound of useless flesh sheathed in a stump of white cloth obstructed the path of her gaze. With no small amount of difficulty, she focused upon its form. The end of it had fingers that were slowly curling into a loose fist, muscles rapidly seized by the frigid grip of rigour mortis, curling the way the edges of paper shies and blackens from an open flame. With a strange sense of detached fascination, she watched it shrivel in upon itself, becoming smaller and smaller until she was sure its dessicated remains would twist into oblivion before her very eyes.

It was not until a flickering of light was caught and glimmered gold upon the sleeve that Midori realised the arm was her own.

Something grabbed her and pulled her painfully upwards, yet her face remained blank, devoid of all conscious thought or feeling. She was turned over and she could faintly see the shadowy outline of a figure toiling above her, twisting something around what remained of her shoulder which leaked spatters of blood, making her head spin. A tourniquet to stem the flow. The lights flickered again to reveal a familiar face haloed by a mop of disheveled orange hair looking down at her with an expression of absolute horror. Mai had a hump the shape of an eagle's hunched form, a mound with fiery red eyes and talons with which to snatch unsuspecting Ganymedes from their lofty homes (2). Midori only hoped that it had not seen the Trojan boy-soldier upon the floor-he would make a fine prize for any god seeking cup-bearers, silent as the dead as he was and twice as dutiful.

Suddenly, she was being hoisted up and in spite of herself a small pleading groan escaped her, almost a piteous whimper. Midori was sure Mai said something, but sound moved like liquid through the turgid atmosphere, never reaching her ears but to plug them full of drones and swollen hives. Draped across something soft and malleable, beige with a broad and mobile back, Midori felt herself being carried away. Her eyes remained fixed upon the placid face of the fool boy-soldier, an over-zealous Euryalus, until they rounded the corner and she saw no more.

* * *

A tremor wracked the earth.

Scowling, Shizuru looked down at her feet. She knew the cause of this disturbance. She could feel Hespera's mounting power not a few corridors away. When they had exited the van upon arrival at Phaesporia, Midori had tried to suit Shizuru up with a set of soldiers. A swift glare in the Cynthian Leader's direction, however, had solved that problem and Midori had just flung her hands up in exasperation and let Shizuru do as she pleased. As agreed upon, she had intended to rush through the ranks of rubble and chaos until she reached Natsuki. Things had a stunning knack to never work out according the plan, though. The place was swarming with scum. Most of the Artemisians were dead or dying. What with all their military force being located elsewhere, namely Parliament, most if not all of the Cynthian personnel consisted of doctors, researchers, general paper-pushers and janitorial staff. After but a taste of the carnage that had consumed this place, there could be no doubt about it.

Phaesporia had fallen.

They had arrived too late. There was nothing they could have possibly done. And now...Now Shizuru was bent upon finding what she had come for in the first place.  
The last group of verminous kin she had run across and slaughtered had certainly not been the first. She now retained a constant aura, a state in which she was near invulnerable. Her eyes shone scarlet through the dim and flickering lights. A darkness wreathed her, wicked and sharp. And her footsteps were faint, squelching marks upon the ground, creased with dark blood. Her constant vigilance came with a price, however. Always in this state she could feel the Keres clawing at her from within as though clawing at the walls of their cells in deepest Tartarus, gnawing, tearing, burning. It was a thin line she walked between madness and despair. She had almost lost herself to her own demons more than once in her long, long lifetime. Shock, grief, rage: these were the tools necessary for her control to slip, for her to become truly lost in a skirling vortex of chthonic _numen_ (3).

If something had happened to Natsuki...

No. She mustn't think like that. Natsuki was fine. She could yet feel Hespera's life-force. It was close. So close. And growing closer with every step.

Rounding the next corner, Shizuru froze.

Natsuki stepped through a wall just down the corridor. Her body was sheathed in blinding

white light, her eyes a blaze of virulent green. She turned slowly, saw Shizuru, then started forward, stopping only when she was just out of arm's reach, so painstakingly, tangibly near.

Shizuru paused as she took in the sight and greeted coolly, "Hespera."

The girl's pelucid face broke into a smile, bright as the day itself, that snatched Shizuru's breath away, "No, Shizuru, it's Natsuki."

For a moment, the Countess frowned, bemused. Then, it struck her.

She stared.

It had taken her years to reach the point that Natsuki had achieved in a matter of weeks. Equilibrium with the powers residing within her, learning to accept them. It had been so difficult to not fight it, as her body instinctually wished to do, and to embrace the shrieking, raving essences of the Keres, to make them one with her. Doing so was against her very nature as a person, as a mortal, as a mere human...And yet, this dark-haired, wide-eyed slip of a girl had accomplished this most inhuman feat with an ease that was not so much startling as it was terrifying.

The ground rumbled and thrashed, making the walls and ceiling shudder.

Snapped out of her reverie, Shizuru raised an eyebrow at a smattering of dust across her shoulders and hair before turning her attention back to Natsuki, "Really, now. That's quite enough. You don't need to keep up the act in _my _presence."

But the girl just frowned and shook her head, "That wasn't me..."

"Then who-?"

Natsuki shrugged.

Swearing as yet another groan seized the earth, Shizuru motioned for Natsuki to follow

and started off in the opposite direction, growling, "That damnable Artemis better not be dead..."

* * *

Shifting the unconscious woman on her shoulders with a low grunt, Mai quickly typed in her officer's code to over-ride the emergency system. The alarms may have continued to blare, but the doors of the Medical Ward unbolted with a metallic snap and click. shoving the door open with her foot, she entered, followed closely by Camilla and Prometheus.

"Yohko!" she shouted, lilac gaze sweeping anxiously around the room.

_Please let her be here...Please let her be alive..._

"Yohko!"

A clatter of instruments sounded to her left. When she turned in that direction, it was to

see a thoroughly skittish Dr. Sagisawa peering over the remains of a dead man upon her coroner's table, still in her lab coat. "Oh god..." she breathed, "Oh god! Did the lion tear off Midori's arm?"

"What?" Mai just blinked at the doctor for a moment, then shook her head and said incredulously, "No! God, no! The lion didn't do anything!"

Suddenly, without warning, the doors behind them burst open, nearly flung from their hinges, which wailed and screeched at the strain. Yohko shrieked and dove beneath her coroner's table once more. Whirling around with Midori still unconscious upon her shoulders, Mai took a step back.

Shizuru stepped across the threshold and eyed the doors, which had two smoking craters blackened in their very centers. The Countess looked back over her shoulder, saying admonishingly, "Really, Natsuki! Was that necessary?"

The raven-haired girl just behind her grinned sheepishly, "Sorry, Shizuru," she shrugged apologetically.

"Don't apologise to me! _They're_ the ones who will now probably assail you with grievances caused by your actions!" she made a wide sweeping gesture to the inhabitants of the room.

Dr. Sagisawa pointed over the body upon her table at Shizuru and Natsuki, stammering, "D-D-Did _they_ tear off Midori's arm?"

Sighing in exasperation, Mai straightened the weight across her shoulders with a wince, Midori could stand to loose a few pounds, "No, Yohko. They didn't." Great rumbling noises shook the place again accompanied by the floor heaving beneath their feet. Mai staggered, "And can whichever of you is doing that _please stop!_" she snapped at the newcomers.

"It's not us!" Natsuki put up her hands defensively.

"Then what-?"

Shizuru cut in, "We do not know. The author of this cause is the least of our concerns. The _effect_, on the other hand, concerns us greatly."

"What the hell are you talking about, Viola?"

"The place is gonna blow, Mai," Natsuki interjected suddenly.

A sort of dull silence followed, punctuated only by further explosions and the groaning of metal and stone heard in the distance.

Finally, Yohko leaped up and cried, "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get the hell out of here!"

"My vote's with her," Natsuki piped in.

"You can't _die_!" Mai shouted as the earth rumbled again, "You're a goddess!"

"Technically that's not true, but we're not going to get into that particular topic just now," Shizuru waved a nonchalant hand. She and Natsuki were the only ones in the room unaffected by the grumbling and heaving of everything around them, "Unless you want to discuss that now, of course. I'm not the one in mortal peril, after all."

Muttering a low oath, Mai snapped, "Fine. Let's get out of here. Come on, Yohko!" The doctor scrambled from her hiding place and latched herself onto Mai, the only other seemingly normal person in the room. Camilla padded after them with Prometheus swooping ahead, scouting. No sooner had they started their trek, however, did Mai pause and ask, "Aren't there others still alive?"

But all that Shizuru said coldly in return was, "None that would _want_ to be alive."

* * *

**(1) Aeolus' prisoners = In book 1 of the Aeneid, Juno goes to Aeolus, Lord of the Winds, and request that he unleash the winds to blow Aeneas' ships to smithereens. Ergo, here I am referring to the winds themselves which he keeps under lock and key, chained in a mountain prison. **

**(2) Ganymede = Ganymede was a young Trojan boy with whom Zeus became infatuated. Zeus swept down in the form of an eagle (or a whirlwind, depending on the source you read) and snatched Ganymede up, bearing him back to Olympus. Ganymede then became Zeus' royal cup-bearer. **

**(3) _numen_ = _numen _is the Latin word meaning "divine power". I'd already used the word "power" a few times in this chapter and was getting rather tired of seeing it popping up everywhere. Unfortunately, I couldn't think of a good enough English equivalent, so I just went with _numen_. It's a word that can be used in reference to any god's power and is often confused with the word _nomen_, meaning "name". They're quite different, though. (Also, I've used the word "chthonic" before, but I think I should mention its definition here since it a rather rare term outside of the Classics. It means of or pertaining to the underworld. So an example of a chthonic deity would be Hecate. Or the Keres. Or the Eumenides. Or...you get the point.) **


	39. Chapter 39

**Salvete, omnes!**

**I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday. My goodness! It's already February! How does't happen! Tempus fugit, I suppose. /sigh**

**Sorry again for the long delay. We university students have a great deal on our plates, dontchya know? I'm taking a full schedule, yet again, and I also have to write my senior thesis this semester. Great fun. **

**Also? Just as a complete non sequitur: there's a new character in Soul Calibur V named "Viola". She's got silver hair and red eyes and wields a glowing crystal orb. So awesome. Of course, when I saw her, the first thing that popped into my mind was "SHIZURU" and then I promptly discovered that her style requires a rather steep learning curve. Ergo, I will have to set aside quite a bit of time to get to know her character and memorise her move sets since, unfortunately, with fighting games I tend to just memorise sets of combos and rely on muscle memory during matches. Alas. **

**But! Enough about video games! On with the show!**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine. **

* * *

A single light burned through the foggy night, red and faded, smouldering. Along Waterloo Bridge there were a few lamp-posts but for some reason none of them were currently functional. Shrouded in fog and clinging shadows therefore, a single figure stood looking out over the water below, shoulders hunched, collar raised against the cold, hat tipped low to conceal a high brow. With a long, drawn breath, the fading bud of an unfiltered cigarette blossomed to life, casting a faint crimson glow onto high cheeks and sharp eyes. Pinching the last of the cigarette between thumb and forefinger, Nao, holding the billowing smoke in her lungs, brought the ashen remains before her eyes and contemplated them before expertly flicking the butt over the stone rail of the bridge. Slowly, she let the smoke issue forth, blending with the fog, white on grey, as she watched the arc of her cigarette butt, arching down, down until it landed in the Thames with a barely audible hiss and the only light in twenty-five meters was extinguished. The fog crept in now, like shades of Orcus to the scent of freshly slaughtered lamb, curling around her pin-striped trousers and the hem of her long, double-breasted overcoat. (1) With a short huff, Nao jammed her hands, stiff with the cold, into her pockets.

She should have brought a scarf, damnit.

Grumbling to herself, she toed the edge of the nearby balustrade in irritation. For fifty minutes now she had been waiting. Nao was by no means a patient person. Five minutes of waiting had her leg bouncing up and don, after which she would snap at the latecomer, who was usually Takeda. That man never seemed to be able to arrive _anywhere_ at a halfway decent time. After thirty minutes she was near jumping out of her skin. The nicotine didn't do much help either. If anything, if increased her jitters.

Her practice of smoking so many cigarettes had arisen from two things. Primarily, in her native rural France, smoking was looked upon as almost natural. Dogs barked. Fish swam. Birds sang. The French smoked. It was considered a remnant of an earlier age when it was culturally acceptable for a population to smoke. Then, when she had joined the British Navy (don't ask how, that was a looooooong story), they had encouraged the troops to smoke. It was a common practice for military establishments to do this, as it kept the soldiers on their toes, quickened reaction time. People who smoked also got smoke-breaks and everyone wanted breaks, so even many of those who originally didn't smoke started to do so for those five or ten minutes of leisure time.

As she had been waiting, she'd finished off the majority of the pack she kept in her coat's breast-pocket and the one she had just thrown over the edge was, in fact, the last. A thought that only increased her overall grumpy mood.

Just then, as she was contemplating leaving and taking out her anger on the unfortunate Takeda back in Parliament, a prickle ran from her scalp to the base of her spine. Frowning, Nao slowly turned, bringing her hands from her pockets and flexing her fingers. She could feel her weapons laced at the base of each knuckle and was comforted by the reassurance that she could mince any threat that dared present itself, be it human or otherwise.

Perched a meter or so away upon the broad stone rail like an oversized cat was a young boy. He couldn't have been more than twelve. Nao's muscles tensed when she realized just how close he was. But who could blame her? He blended in perfectly with the thickly whirling fog, what with his snowy white shirt, alabaster skin and prematurely grey hair. Even his eyes were pale. Large, silvery things like mirrors that reflected no light.

"Good evening," he greeted with a smile that made Nao feel on edge. There was something very wrong with this boy…

She narrowed her eyes, "_You're_ Nagi?"

He just cocked his head at her, his expression remaining the same.

_He looks familiar…_

Suddenly, she realized where she had seen him before, "You're that kid I saw at the crime scene!" she growled, accusatory.

Stretching one of his legs out in a particularly childish gesture that made the rest of his body tip back dangerously over the lip of the rail, he replied nonchalantly, "Guilty as charged."

"This had better not be some prank…" Nao's anger was starting rise. She had waited almost an hour in the night on a dark and deserted bridge for _this_?

He grinned at her, "Don't worry, Agent Zhang, this is no prank. I know what the circle is. The circle at all of your crime scenes. The only thing linking all your cases together."

Opening her mouth to speak, Nao was just about to ask how, when he cut her off by tossing something into the air. Purely out of reflex, she reached out and snatched it. When she looked down, it was to find a small USB thumb-drive cradled in her palm. But when her head jerked back up, the boy was gone.

* * *

_Beep._

A green light trailing with a long tail shot up on a dark screen, only to descend back to the center once more with staggered steps.

_Beep._

The whir of machinery filled the air in a trembling hum, occasionally accompanied by an odd breathy gasp, as though the tubes and wires themselves were alive, breathing.

_Beep_.

Mai stared down at the unconscious woman on the bed. An opaque, pale bluish tube was running from her mouth as though she were extending it into the nearby machine rather than the other way around. An IV drip hung pendulously nearby, the clear liquid running into the crook of her left arm. The left arm was mostly missing, naught more than a white bandaged stump just below the shoulder. Mai had watched when one of the nurses had come in to change the dressings. The skin beneath, fresh from surgery, had been revealed when the bandages had been peeled back, all torturously delicate, slightly red and inflamed. She had been assured that Midori's swelling would lessen over the course of the next week, to be reduced to a healthy soft pink, but in the meantime the Cynthian Leader would remain sedated. Dr. Sagisawa herself had come in a day after performing the surgery in order to check in and make sure everything was in order. The doctor had been significantly calmer once out of Phaesporia—now a smouldering ruin beneath the sea—and back in her own element, the medical quarters that had been erected beneath Parliament.

What remained of the Cynthian Company now resided completely in Parliament under Countess Viola's protection. This did not, however, include the Operatives and other agents still in the field. With Midori out of commission for the time being, for all intents and purposes Mai held, as second in command, in fact the highest position. As such all reports came to her. Stacks of them were teetering in her room presently, but she paid them no heed. At the moment, at least. She would look at them later and do all that was required of her current station. But right now…This was her time alone. When she would come, just for an hour each day, to sit. She knew Midori was not comatose, Yohko had told her as much. Midori would wake, but Mai still felt guilty.

It was her fault. All of it. The deaths of all those people. The loss of Midori's right arm. The downfall of Phaesporia. All of it…

"Don't do that."

Blinking, Mai looked over to the door. There stood Natsuki, looking as she always did in her gray jeans, blue hoodie and floppy tongued, purple converse, her hair a sleek, dark wave that fell past her shoulders. Only one difference was readily apparent: Natsuki's eyes burned just a bit too brightly. They seemed lit from within, like candles had been placed behind them, their emerald light flickering out until it seemed that she was looking beyond what her eyes alighted upon, into something far, far away, something beyond mortal perception.

"Don't torture yourself with guilt," Natsuki clarified, taking a half-step forward but not fully entering the room, "It does nothing but fester, a slow decay."

When had the girl began speaking like this? Natsuki had always been intelligent, yes, but she had still retained a sense of roughness about the edges; it was in the way she walked with her shoulders slightly hunched, her face stuck in that perennial scowl; it was in the way she spoke with her boyish expressions and cold façade. Now, however…Now she was…_eloquent_. Her shoulders were back, her face smooth and calm yet distant. Warmer, somehow. And something else…something…

"After all, no matter your previous actions, you will always have friends. We're still friends." Natsuki said, breaking out into a soothing smile that was like the sun bursting through low-swinging clouds and onto grass-swept cliffs.

Rather than be pacified though, Mai felt a stab of further guilt, red-hot, in her chest, "Yea," she croaked out, looking away, back towards where Midori lie peacefully asleep, "we're still friends…"

Before any more could be said between them, a soft, genteel cough sounded from just beyond the doorway. It was Shiho, standing in the shadows beyond, her frilly Victorian dress visible even through the gloom, a pale yellow, this time, edged with white lace. Her voice was cold and sarcastic as she spoke, "Much as I hate to interrupt this touching moment, I fear my duty imposes upon me to do so. Natsuki, your presence has been requested."

"May I ask by whom?"

Shiho merely replied smoothly, "Friends of yours, apparently. Their given names were Mashiro and Fumi, though their real names, I suspect, have yet to be disclosed."

Natsuki looked puzzled, but nodded nonetheless. Turning, she paused and looked over her shoulder, "I will return before nightfall."

The vampire girl curtsied sarcastically as Natsuki passed before her, but Natsuki, rather than take offense, just grinned at her in a semblance of her old self. When Natsuki wasn't looking, Shiho shot one last, indiscernible look at Mai before she swept after the dark-haired girl.

* * *

An untouched cup of tea slowly steamed, little wisps pulling away and rising in the air like morning mist from a river whose banks were drooping mantles of snow. Its contents were a light brown, a black tea with but a touch of milk. The creamy porcelain remained untouched however. The Countess sat beside it, legs crossed elegantly, staring off into space, brow slightly furrowed over muted, scarlet eyes.

In truth, Shizuru was beside herself. Outwardly she looked as she always did. Calm. Imperious. But the knowing, amused glint in her expression had vanished, replaced instead by a harness. Something coiled within her, taut and wary, like the ropey muscles of a horse's neck as it smelled the iron tint of blood upon the battlefield for the first time, eyes white, prancing nervously, prepared to rear up and lash with sharply filed hooves at any sudden movement. And when it was struck with the hacking sword or cleaving axe it shrieked a mortal bellow, tossing its rider and sending cursed chills crawling down the ranks of soldiers nearby, so similar the sound to that of a man clutching to his last, torn breath of life.

And Natsuki was the one who wielded the wicked, unexpected blade.

No matter how hard she tried, Shizuru just couldn't pin her down. The girl was surprisingly elusive. At first, naive yet pleasingly bold. Then a child of Hespera, a descendant of Nina. As though _that_ wasn't staggering enough, the girl had somehow managed to fully merge with her deity.

Impossible.

That was Shizuru's first thought. There was no conceivable way Natsuki could have managed such a Sisyphean feat. Not even with herself guiding the girl could this have happened. But there could be no doubt. Somehow, it _had_ happened. And Shizuru was inexplicably terrified.

And that was the other thing...Shizuru Viola, the Blood Countess, was entirely unaccustomed to the notion of fear. Unless she was indulging in the cruel application of fear upon others, of course. But to herself feel fear so acutely? To know that it had her in its ebon clutches once more? To absolutely _wallow_ in it?

Unacceptable.

Thus, anger stung at her heart and prodded her into this strange state of conflicting emotions.

Natsuki was still Natsuki, of course, but...then again...she also wasn't. She was Hespera now. A primordial diety, a nymph. A daughter of Night, the Great Mother of all. (2) Normally, Hespera was a calm, reserved goddess along with her sisters, spending their time basking in the dappled sun and shade of the tree that bore golden fruit, guardians of those precious globes along with the winding dragon, Ladon, with his bristling scales, hissing from the branches, snapping with fanged jaws at any who dared approach. But Shizuru had gotten a glimpse of Hespera recently and the goddess had...changed. No longer was she the laughter-loving nymph, sunlight her very name. Instead her years of solitude and entrapment within a long line of physical, mortal bodies, women one and all, had made her bitter, dangerous. Natsuki had been a loose canon before but now...now with this merging she was perhaps even more perilous.

Perhaps the nobles had been right. Perhaps the girl was too dangerous to live.

No. No! How could she think that? Natsuki was-! She wouldn't-! She couldn't-!

Could she?

Gods knew she had been the cause of the death of almost everyone who had ever mattered to her. Why would this instance be any different? Was this, then, the burden of immortality? Was this her curse?

Brooding, Shizuru reached out and finally lifted the cup to her lips. When she took a sip however, the tea was cold, the brew bitter.

* * *

**(1): In the Odyssey there's a scene where Odysseus goes to the underworld to speak to the shade of Tiresias for advice. In order to do this, he had to bring a lamb the blood of which the shade had to drink in order that it might speak. **

**(2): Night, according to one of the Greek creation myths, was the firstborn of Chaos. Then she, in turn, created all things. All on her lonesome. First were the primordials like the Fates, Erebus, Tartarus, etc. etc. etc. If you would like a complete list of all the primordial Greek deities take a gander online. Night is the mother of most of them. Then they, in turn, mingle amongst themselves and more gods are born. Begat begat begat begat. It's a creation myth. You know how it goes.**

**Hope y'all liked it! Feel free to drop a review of PM me. **


	40. Chapter 40

**Salvete, omnes!**

**As I was writing this chapter, I was wondering where it would come on a scale of actual pages at this point in the story. Well, I looked it up. Apparently, normal formatting puts about 250 words a page. That means this monster of a story is almost 600 pages long in that regard. **

**That's right. 600 damn pages. Holy mother of...This has to be one of the longest stories I've ever written. Period. A fantasy novel I wrote a while back was only 400 pages. My face when I realised this astonishing figure was a mixture of pleased satisfaction and absolute horror. On one hand I was all, "WOOOO! 600 pages!" And then on the other, some part of me that still feels shame cringed, "600 pages? You wrote a 600 page long fanfic? And you're still not finished?"**

**It's official. I have no life. And my pudor is gone. Gone, I say! (Translation: pudor is one of those odd words in Latin that can't really be conveyed in English, but it sort of means "sense of decency"). **

**Lucky for you! Bad for me. **

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

Flames flickered in the wind, though there was no wind to be found. A murmur fled through the dark chamber, carrying with it the acrid scent of iron, sharp and unyielding, along with the nauseating stench of putrefaction. Upon red candles the flights of flame stood tall, their wicks in need to trimming so that they smoked, adding to the dripping haze. The sound of water could be heard in the distance, as though stones were growing within the cavernous depths, reaching up and down, stretching their mineral hands to create a grand hall of thick spears lining the cave like elegant columns.

The breath of wind flashed through the shadows, twisting around the over-arching ceiling before finally alighting upon a broad table. Stygian inscriptions glowed, etched with a bronze dagger upon the dark surface there. Something else dripped from it that was decidedly not water. Something thick and quickly solidifying, coagulating. A hooded figure stood before the table, an altar, staring off into the fierce, colourless inscriptions, devoid of sound or movement. In a whirling eddy, however, the wind solidified, revealing a pale boy perched atop the altar with silver mirrors for eyes and gray hair.

As soon as the boy appeared, the hooded figure snapped its gaze upon him. A snarl was emitted, "Know your place, Nagi!"

"_So_ sorry," the boy drawled, his voice unapologetic in spite of his actual words, "I forgot."

The hooded figure said nothing, but the air in the chamber clenched. Nagi flinched and immediately leaped from the altar. He landed on all his knees and when he rose he brushed off his pants disdainfully. Turning, he offered a low bow to the figure, almost mocking, "Forgive me, Revenant. For all my shortcomings, I have done as you commanded. The information has been planted."

Satisfied, the Revenant waved him away, "Excellent. Now, leave me. Your presence distracts me from my devotions."

And with that unsettling smile of his, Nagi faded into the wind once more.

* * *

Natsuki ignored Shiho as the vampire girl bowed and left her before a large wooden door, banded in iron. The hall was empty but for herself now. Empty and unnaturally quiet. Frowning and trying the shake off the eerie feeling that was starting to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, Natsuki reached out her hand and opened the door.

Inside, all was dark but for a light at the very opposite end of the room. The room itself was long and narrow, rectangular in shape. An oak table sprawled across most of the space, hedged in by many high-backed, stiff chairs. There were no windows. Just a soft beige coloured stone that sheathed the room in large blocks. An enormous fireplace ran along one side, though it was unlit. There was no doubt that it could have easily roasted a half-dozen wild boars if arranged properly. What caught Natsuki's attention, however, was the single source of light.

Light seemed the wrong way to describe it, though, for it did not shine. It illuminated everything around it, but it was a conspicuous _absence_ of light, if anything. The night sky, perhaps. Or the light shed from a lunar eclipse, pale and bloody.

"Come closer, my child."

Blinking, bemused, Natsuki nervously raked a hand through her long black hair before approaching. A tall figure stood at the end of the table, but the source of non-light was coming from someone seated beside her. No more than a child. As she drew closer, Natsuki noticed the glint of metal from what turned out to be a wheelchair. Her steps were hesitant, yet she could not keep them from carrying her forward. The voice that had spoken had been soft, but commanding. There was a iron quality to it, rusted and tired. Worn and oxidised. Something ancient in it demanded obeisance.

The child turned her head ever so slightly, long gray hair, almost lavender in hue, brushing wan cheeks, "Do not be afraid."

A mere gesture brought Natsuki directly before her. She did not even register the woman dressed as a nurse at the child's side for her emerald gaze was fixed, immobile, upon the girl in the wheelchair. Adorned in a light green dress, the girl seemed to have trouble breathing. Every gasping inhalation was a shaky wheeze, harsh, rasping. Her feeble hands shook. Her stockinged feet dangled from spindly legs. She almost seemed to be wasting away right on the spot. Her eyes remained hidden behind papery lids that fluttered as her thin shoulders trembled. She was like the last dessicated leaf clinging to a black bough that clawed the pale blue of the winter sky. When she tried to raise her chin and look up, the woman beside her twitched.

"Mother..." the woman murmured, "Please...There must be another way."

Natsuki said not a word. She could not even had she wished to do so. She was rooted in place.

A weak sound of derision escaped the girl, "There isn't time, Chronos. This body is failing me. I require another. Even if only for a brief while."

The woman bowed her head and returned to her silence.

"I am sorry, my child," the sickly girl spoke now to Natsuki and she genuinely sounded sorrowful, "When the time comes, I shall depart and you shan't even remember. This I promise you."

Natsuki wanted to ask what was going on. She wanted to console this girl wasting away before her very eyes to some unknown sickness. She wanted to remain. She wanted to flee. But she could not.

The child looked up and unveiled her eyes, looking right into her.

And Natsuki's mouth dropped open, drowned in a scream.

* * *

Shizuru's head rose sharply from her tepid tea.

What was that?

Delicately setting the porcelain cup down, she rose. Her muted red eyes narrowed suspiciously and she sniffed the air.

There.

Something...Some disturbance. A flux of _numen._ (1) Its scent was Hespera's but mingled with something else...Something infinitely more powerful.

Impossible.

Starting forward, she was just about to reach the door when something blocked her path.

Startled, Shizuru scowled at the intruder who had the audacity to refuse her.

"Hello, Keres," Haruka greeted icily. She was not alone. All three of the Moirae had appeared though, as usual, only Haruka was the one to speak, an undesirable harbinger. Yukino and Mikoto stood to one side, watching the proceedings with distant expressions.

"Now really is not the best of times, Haruka," Shizuru replied with an undisguised sneer, "For in case you have not noticed, I was just headed out."

Lachesis just grinned from behind the puppet of Haruka's mortal facade.

"Let. Me. Pass," Shizuru said through gritted teeth, growing impatient.

"Why?" Haruka circled like a vulture, her tone snide, "So you can go to your precious Nina? Oh, wait. I forgot. I meant _Natsuki_."

The Countess' eyes blazed crimson, "Do not speak her name! You are not fit to -!"

But the Moira interjected, "I? I am not fit? Says the deity who was just recently contemplating killing this very same girl! And for what?" She leaned in, her chin just over the Ker's shoulder, to hiss into her ear, "For your own wretched life? A life you begged me to take all those centuries ago?"

"No..." Shizuru whispered. The word was ragged. Choked.

"You deny it?" Haruka continued, low and venomous, "You dare deny it? Your thoughts are loud, Keres. And we," she stepped back, gesturing to her silent companions, "We listen. As is our wont. As is our duty."

That scarlet gaze fluttered shut and the whimper that followed was desperate, "No."

"Your refutations are futile, Countess Violasz!" Haruka cried. She raised her arm and a staff apeared in her grasp, the measure of her office, a tool in her hands, but also a deadly weapon. With a smooth gesture, she brought it down to strike the floor. Sparks issued forth, spilling across the stone, "The Lot has been drawn!"

In the background, Yukino unravelled a golden thread between her dexterous fingers, twirling it in the air until it was a taut line suspended before her though she never physicaly touched it.

Shizuru's eyes flew open. She stared at the thread, gaze darting from Haruka to Yukino. Panic stirred within her breast, rising like a coiled snake to strike and plant its spreading poison, "No! Haruka! Please!"

Haruka's eyes were steely, meeting Shizuru's unflinchingly. Her face was a cold mask, "Measured, the Lot stands..."

Mikoto's grip tightened upon the handle of her black sword, knuckles going white and the Moira's eyes flashed golden.

"...awaiting the shears."

Haruka gestured with her mace-like staff, her gesture swift and authoritative. Without

even needing to look, Mikoto raised the ebon sword high above her head and in a flash drew it down in a might, wasting blow.

Before it could reach its destination, it stopped.

Right in its path was Shizuru. With one hand, she'd caught the thick blade. It dug into the flesh of her palm, cutting, and her arm shook from the strain to keep the Moira at bay. Her face was a rictus snarl, terrible to behold. Fangs bared, gaze smouldering like hellfire, an aura of darkness wreathed her, filling the space around her, spreading like wings that rent the realms to reveal her true form. A low rumbling issued forth, deep as the seized earth, and the very foundations of Parliament shuddered at her sudden rage. It poured from her in torrents, the fury, like the blood of Agamemnon pulsing from his traitorous wounds while above him a black-pitched wife revelled in the life spilling from him, quenching the parched earth for newborn shoots to break the loam, to emerge green and tender. (2)

Shizuru was utterly consumed by it. Steeped in it. The fury ate at her from within, dragging a slow fire through her bones until she wanted to weep. Something broke inside of her, something she normally kept under strict lock and key. Rearing up, she wrenched the sword from its rightful owner and delivered a backhand that sent Mikoto crashing into the opposite wall, but the slight, girlish form of the Moira clambered upright with nary a scratch, though chips of stone had shot across the room and now littered the floor. Some pieces still spun.

Great panting breaths tore through the Countess and each exhale was accompanied by the sound of battlefields clashing in the distance. Her entire frame was wracked with tremors now. The aura slowly grew, gorging itself upon a bottomless cesspool of fetid rage, streaked through with soot and flame and raven pitch. Shizuru fell to the ground, just barely able to catch herself with her hands so that she knelt on all fours like a bull rejecting the yoke, fruitless. The sword clattered beside her, forgotten. Gasping, she clenched her fists and her taloned fingers tore into the stone floor as though it were made of sand. An onslaught of power was raging within her, battering at the walls of her control, wailing, buffeting her to and fro. Her gaze remained wide open, yet sightless, lost. A sound like retching coughed from her again and again until a skirling shriek burst forth. Like a cyclonic desert storm it tumbled and whirled in a dissonant vortex.

The Moirae gathered round, calmly looking down, observant. After retrieving her sword, Mikoto just cocked her head and blinked. Yukino had already respun the golden thread and it was nowhere to be seen.

"At last," Haruka said smugly, a small insufferable smile on her face as she watched Shizuru writhe on the floor, "the Keres remembers her duty."  
They waited until the unwanted display of destruction and raw power withdrew back into the form of the Countess, silent. Until, finally, Shizuru's spent and mortal body slumped to the floor, still at last.

* * *

**(1) numen : I've used this Latin term recently, but since it's in another language, I'll reiterate it once more for all y'all's sake. Numen means "diving power".**

**(2) This sentence is a direct reference to Aeschylus' tragic play, "Agamemnon", from his Oresteia. I believe I've quoted it before in this story. This, however, is referencing Clytemnestra's speech immediately after she's killed her husband, Agamemnon. That speech has to be one of the most chilling, the most hauntingly beautiful things I have ever read. It's gorgeous. Gives me shivers every time. I only wish I could read the play in Greek. Alas! I only know Latin. Grumble grumble...**

**Anyway! Hope y'all liked it!**

**-Kore**


	41. Chapter 41

**Salvete, omnes!**

** I swear, I swear, I swear I am NOT trying to use the Deus Ex Machina construction in this story! I'm afraid that things might turn out that way though, if I'm not careful. Especially where our dear Natsuki is concerned...It's unfortunate that I haven't been able to give Natsuki as much development as I'd normally like for a character that is as vital as hers. I only wish that I'd thought through her character more in the beginning of this story in order to sufficiently flesh her out. As it is, Shizuru remains the most developed character, followed (oddly enough) closely by Mai, of all people! When I realised that, I smacked myself right across the face. Here I am, writing ShizNat, and who gets more attention, development-wise? The cocky yet troubled Mai Tokiha?**

** That almost makes me want to go back through and rewrite a few chapters in order to give Natsuki the development she deserves rather than rushing through it like I'll have to do in these last few chapters. But..I won't. That would be far too much work.**

** And yes, you did read that correctly. These next few chapters are the last. We're approaching the end, my friends! This story should end in...oh, let's see...six or seven chapters? The original goal was 51 chapters total, but now I'm looking at my calculations and it's probably going to be somewhere around 48 or so. That includes the epilogue. The rather bitter-sweet epilogue, as I've mentioned before. So here's your second warning. **

** But! Enough of all that! On with the show!**

** Enjoy!**

** Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

Down the hall from the newly installed Medical Ward, Shiho Munakata stood and observed a door. It wasn't a particularly interesting door, nor was it of any great import. What was important was what it guarded. A room full of wires and machines. A room with a bed in the center, an unconscious, drugged woman upon it. A room where an ever faithful Callisto watched over her Cynthian mistress. Shiho's large amber eyes stared at the door, never faltering even when groups of people passed by. She stood so still that none who wandered by even realised she was there. Over the years she had perfected the art of blending into the space around her. It was remarkable how little people noticed if one did not move or speak.

So too was it remarkable that after all these years of steeling herself against any notion of feeling, she still felt a stab of...something when looking at that door. It was a completely unremarkable door. Why then was she regarding it with such intensity? Was that _guilt_ she felt?No. That couldn't be right. She hadn't hurt Midori. She hadn't aided in the downfall of Phaesporia. Then what was this pesky emotion that strained her chest?

Could it be...compassion?

Shiho almost laughed aloud.

_How utterly ridiculous._

"Shiho."

The vampire girl turned and frowned quizzically at whomever was speaking to her. Her expression was not foreboding per se, but it certainly was not inviting either, "Yes, Natsuki? What is it?"

Natsuki walked up, pushing back her long hair in a glossy black wave, looking immensely distracted, "Have you seen Shizuru? I thought you'd said earlier that she was in the Throne Room?"

"She was, for a time. She might have gone back to her quarters," Shiho's attitude was unconcerned, though she had to fight the urge to dart her eyes back to that door, "Normally she likes her tea breaks there, as you probably know."

"Hmm," was Natsuki's only reply. She tugged at the dark locks over one shoulder, contemplative, "You might be right...Thank you."

Shiho waved her away, her own mind far away, caught up in itself. She was surprised, therefore, when she felt a cool hand on her shoulder. Startled, she looked up into Kruger's face and was stunned to see those green eyes momentarily shine forth like a sea-god's dripping trident parting the waves, "You should go in," Natsuki said softly, her voice warm though her overall demeanor still bore that perennially icy air, "Mai would appreciate it."

And then she turned and swept away, swift as a cold night's breeze.

Shiho gaped after her.

_What on earth...? How did she know?_

For a few moments, she merely stood there awkwardly, glancing back at the door with a pained look on her face. Finally, she growled, stomped one of her feet in a particularly childish gesture of irritation and headed towards the door, muttering to herself, "I'm going to regret this..."

When she burst through the door, however, it was to find that both of the occupants of the room were unconscious. Midori still lay upon the bed, hooked up to a myriad of monitors, her hair undone and looking dishevelled despite the sponge bath the nurses had given her that morning as she remained under. There too sat Mai in her chair across from Midori's bed. Her chin had fallen to her chest, which rose and fall with steady breaths, head tilted to one side so that a stray lock of short, ginger hair fell onto her eyelids, deeply asleep.

Shiho felt all the breath she had been holding in anticipation whoosh out of her lungs. It was almost a huff of disappointment.

_ So much for my heart-to-heart_...She thought to herself bitterly.

Emitting a noise that was half-sigh, half-grumble, the vampire girl retrieved a spare blanket from the base of Midori's bed and draped it carefully over Mai's upright, slumbering form. Then she left without saying a word.

* * *

Natsuki raised her hand and rapped at the door to Shizuru's personal quarters. When no answer came, she frowned. Shiho said she was probably here...Reaching out, she tried to open the door but it was locked, bolted from the inside. Her scowl deepened, now more full of worry and anxiety than confusion or, heaven forbid, anger. For but a moment she stopped to think of what to do. Then she almost struck her forehead with her palm. Godly powers. Right. Of course. Hespera may always be right beneath the surface of her skin, but it would still take Natsuki a while to get used to using the deity for everyday tasks. The first time she had looked into a mirror after returning from her fight with Maria, she had given a yelp of surprise. Was that what everyone else saw when they looked at her now? That darkly lustrous hair, even deeper in shade when falling against her pale almost luminescent skin? And those eyes...Those could not possibly be her own eyes...

It was in that moment that she finally understood why Shizuru looked the way she did. Shizuru skin wasn't as pale as her own and her hair was more of a dark, golden colour, but everything about her had a certain shine. A lustre. The same lustre that now stained Natsuki's own form. Natsuki wondered if her own gaze would glow as Shizuru's did whenever she felt any particularly strong emotion.

Wondering how exactly she would go about this short of blowing the door from its hinges, Natsuki rubbed her hands briskly together before tentatively reaching out and touching the solid, wooden frame. Channeling a small amount of energy into the door, she twisted it until she heard a loud series of clicks and the door creaked open. Releasing the power, she pushed the door open. No sooner had she stepped inside and closed the door behind her tan she stopped dead in her tracks.

Her eyes widened.

The room was a disaster. Hunks of sandstone looked like they had been torn from the wall and dispersed across the floor in sharp shards. Clouds of dust hung all around, shimmering in the dull light from the perpetually lit fire, now nothing more than a smouldering bed of coals. And there on the floor lay a prone figure in a familiar red dress. Dark golden locks tangled above her head in disarray. Shizuru's body was sprawled on the ground as though she had been dropped there like a forgotten and forlorn rag-doll, facedown, one arm twisted above her head. The ground beneath her bore grievous wounds, gaping holes, deep and ruinous.

Rushing forward, Natsuki knelt down at Shizuru's side and rolled her over onto her back, "Shizuru?" she called out, her voice trembling slightly in panic, "Shizuru?" She grasped the Countess' shoulders and shook them. Her first reaction was to check her pulse before she remembered that Shizuru didn't have a pulse, and neither did she for that matter.

_ She can't be dead. There's no way...Nothing can kill Shizuru._

"Shizuru? Shizuru!"

_Oh god, please...Please don't be dead. Not now. Not yet. Please..._

The Countess' body spasmed suddenly, jerking into consciousness once more. With a great, wrenching cry, her eyes opened and she looked around, frantic.

"Shizuru..." Natsuki gasped, hands still on her shoulders, "Shizuru, what happened?"

Finally, it seemed that Shizuru realised that Natsuki was there. She stared as if she could not believe her eyes, "You...You are alive!"

Puzzled, Natsuki frowned quizzically, "What do you mean...? Of course I'm alive."

Quickly rising from where she lay so that she was sitting up, level with Natsuki, Shizuru reached out and grasped Natsuki's upper arms as though she needed to physically touch her, to feel her tangibility in order to prove that Natsuki wasn't some sort of illusion, "Haruka..." she began softly, her lilting Hungarian accent thicker with emotional stress, "Haruka was here. She came with the others. They...They..." her voice cracked, "They were going to kill you..."

"What?" the dark haired girl was taken aback, "Who? What are you talking about?"

"But I couldn't let them..." Shizuru's frame was wracked with violent shivers, "I tried...tried to stop them but..." her eyes squeezed shut and the trembles increased, "I lost control. It took all my strength to get the Keres back under control..."

"But you're fine now?" Natsuki asked, thumbs stroking over Shizuru's shoulders in a vain attempt to calm her, "Everything is fine, yes?"

"Yes, I think so..." suddenly Shizuru froze. Her eyes opened once more and she squinted at Natsuki suspiciously, "I remember feeling something before the Moirae appeared. A flux of some sorts...Did something happen to you, Natsuki?"

Emerald eyes blinked, bemused, "No. Of course not. Nothing happened. I'm fine."

The Countess' gaze unexpectedly blazed to life, flaring with a bloody light while all around her thick tendrils of black smoke began to rise, "Do not lie to us!" she hissed, fingers clenching, digging painfully into Natsuki's arms, "We know there is something you are not telling us!"

"Ow! Shizuru, what -!"

An inhuman snarl rumbled forth, layered and echoing from deep within the Countess' throat, and she bore her dagger-like fangs, snapping them like a diseased hound.

"I met with some people!" Natsuki admitted in a panic, trying to pull away from Shizuru but unable to do so, "Shiho took me to them! We talked and then they left! That's it! I swear! Please! Shizuru, stop!"

Just as suddenly as the fury had flashed into existence, it was snuffed out again. Replacing the ageless wrath was an expression of absolute horror. Gone, the ebon smoke, the acrid flames, the glowing crimson eyes. Shizuru gaped, her expression lost, pained, "I...I...I was not myself! That...!"

"I know," Natsuki said softly, standing and helping Shizuru clamber to her feet, "It's alright. Come on, let's get you to bed."

But Shizuru balked, "No!" her eyes were wide, fearful, "I don't want to -! The dreams...! The Keres...! They'll...!" She was babbling. Natsuki had never known Shizuru to babble in a panic like this before. She'd panicked, of course, but never like this. This was a different level of fear entirely.

"Hush..." Natsuki slowly drew her closer to the bed, "It's alright...I won't let anything happen to you. Come on...Into bed...There you go..."

Reluctantly, the Countess allowed herself to be led into bed despite her incessant pleading to the contrary. Natsuki carefully removed Shizuru's chiton, which was grimy with dust from the pulverised rock littering the room, and raised the cream coloured sheets to her shoulders, tenderly tucking her in. When she stepped back to take off her own clothes, however, Shizuru clutched at her arms.

"Don't go..." Shizuru whimpered, eyes glinting with unshed tears, "Please...Please don't leave me..."

"I'm not going anywhere," Natsuki replied soothingly, trying to disentangle herself, "I promise. It's alright...It's alright...I'm staying."

Quickly stripping off her jeans and sweatshirt, she lifted the sheets and climbed in behind Shizuru. Immediately, the Countess turned in order to bury her face in Natsuki's shoulder. Closing her eyes, Natsuki slowly, gently stroked Shizuru's head, threading her fingers through her waves of dark honeyed hair, combing it free of tangles. Shizuru's body trembled slightly, but soon the quivering slowed and finally stopped. Even after her breaths became deep and steady, Natsuki continued to smooth through her hair, loath to stop.

Shizuru's words had stirred something in her, though. She was right. Something _had_ happened. What disturbed Natsuki, however, was that she couldn't for the life of her remember what. She had gone into the room. She had spoken with the two people. One was a woman, dressed as a maid. Or perhaps a nurse? And the other was...a child? A child in a wheelchair. They had spoken and then...Nothing. That was all she remembered.

Sighing, Natsuki placed a soft kiss upon Shizuru's brow, wrapped her arms around the other woman's warm body, drawing her close and breathing in the scent of her. Shizuru murmured something unintelligible in her sleep, snuggling closer. At this, Natsuki could not hold back a contented smile.

_Sleep, Shizuru...We will figure all of this out in the morning. But for now, sleep..._

* * *

** Well, I hope y'all liked it! No pesky footnotes in this chapter. Just a friendly wave. **

** -Kore**


	42. Chapter 42

**Salvete, omnes!**

** I hope y'all have had a wonderful few weeks. I'm already over half-way through my semester and am starting the feel the pressure from the many projects I have due in just a few week. Where does the time go? I am fain to give up this story, however, and so I am here, updating yet again.**

** The first part of this chapter is pretty straight-forward. The second part, which involves going from Shizuru's perspective, is something else entirely, though. Basically, Shizuru is loosing it. She's starting to go bonkers. Mad. Crazy. Insane. Ever since she encountered Haruka and the other Moirae two chapters ago, the Keres have become much more wild, much harder for her to control. I tried to alert y'all to that in the last chapter, when Shizuru started speaking in the third person singular "we" and "us", and was unable to control the Keres. If you didn't catch that, then I'm telling you here. Plain and simple. She's starting to go nuts, people. And that detail is very important for the climax of this thrilling tale.**

** That being said, I also included a great many puns and things in other languages in this chapter. It's Shizuru's thoughts. Scattered thoughts. Thoughts that are no longer just in English. So! Bonus points to anyone who can translate them! (Also? I apologise for any mistakes I may have made in Hungarian or French. Or in the Latin, for that matter. I actually wrote the Latin a few years back, so there might be a few minor errors alongside the strong Vergilian allusions. It's basically an homage to Vergil...)**

** Anywho! Enjoy!**

** Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

A shriek of rage and pain, inhuman and indignant, reverberated from a stone tower, naught more than a single spire, thick and tall, clutched by a ragged peak that jutted high from the surrounding Hungarian plains. All around, the hills were soft and rolling, a stark contrast to the sharp, asymmetrical spear of rock. Once, an Ottoman army had amassed here, as far as the eye could see, a force to rival that of Xerxes at Thermopylae. For months, the Sultan and his fierce warriors had besieged this castle. But this lone fortress had stood in open defiance, so well fortified it was, so expertly positioned atop steep slopes of intractable terrain. Finally, realising their efforts were fruitless, the Ottomans moved on, leaving behind the fortress.

A single dull light flickered from one of the slotted windows, no more than a narrow gap for a bowman to peer from and take deadly aim. All else was dark. Even the light of the moon-which normally washed the plains at night with its silvery glow and gave the tower a velveteen appearance almost like a broken antler that had been cut from the crown of a young buck and plunged into the earth-was obscured behind heavy clouds, hiding its empyreal face, secretive. A stiff wind carried the sound of the high shriek into the distance, fading, rippling as it went. Rising with it swarmed a murder of crows, large as ravens, their strident cries dissonant and clashing with the harsh rush of air through feathered wings.

Inside the tower, Reito Kanzaki idly fingered his collar with a mournful sigh. He held a silk shirt in his hands, cream-coloured, which he regarded with deep sorrow. The collar was ruined. When Mai had shot him back during the invasion of Phaesporia, the back of his skull had shattered, accompanied by a burst of black ichor that had wept thick globs down the back of his neck. The wound had healed of course, but it had stung. Both his body and his pride. His once faithful toy, his darling Mai had managed to break free of his siren clutches. And now, on top of that, his shirt had been ruined.

"It was my favourite one, too..." he sighed, thumbing the stained cloth, savouring its smooth hand.

"Would you _shut up_ about the damn shirt already?" Maria snarled behind him.

A sickening squelch sounded at Maria's side as she tossed another drained victim aside, which flopped to the ground, boneless, bloodless. The front of her russet dress was stained with a wide swathe of red. Normally after feeding, her hair spun to a rich gold and her skin firmed to the peach-rose of youth. This attempt, however, and all her attempts for the past few days had been foiled and then some. For a fleeting moment, youth would be recalled, but then it would fade once more and with it would return her own wound received from the girl, Natsuki.

Lurid, livid and more painful than ever, the scar consumed half of Maria's face. The bone was visible in some places behind wilting and seared skin. Her left eye drooped, pearly white as if blind, and the cavernous aperture of her mouth was horrifically apparent, the skin of her cheek and jaw grisly and flayed to reveal her clenched teeth and the sinews holding her skull in place. The flesh of her lip was raised almost as though in a rictus snarl through which her tongue could be seen when she spoke, red like wet velvet. The shape of fingers could barely be seen, rising in peaks at her temple and brow, the entire scar vaguely in the shape of a handprint.

Reito tsked, clicking his tongue, "You should not feel so down, Maria! Phaesporia has been destroyed, and most of those damnable Artemisians along with it."

"A small victory," came the terse reply.

"Says the one who warred with them in the West for two centuries," Reito retorted dryly.

With a wordless growl, Maria rounded on him, "I am Marked, Kanzaki!" she hissed, gesturing sharply to her face, "Marked and unable to stand in the sun's rays ever again! Phaesporia may have fallen, but Viola yet lives. What sort of victory is this?"

"A bitter one," he insisted with a glint in his piercing black eyes, "but a victory nonetheless."

A knock came at the door and the two immediately turned, their expressions suddenly guarded, placid even, "Enter," Reito called.

A servant bearing a small pile of clothes came into the room, bowed, then shut the door behind him.

"Ah! Excellent!" Reito tossed his silk shirt into the nearby fire and gestured for the servant to draw closer.

Rolling her eyes, Maria turned away with an exasperated noise in her throat.

"The enemy is weak, Maria," the Black Prince continued to speak as his servant began to dress him expertly, "Surely you must realise this?"

"Viola..." Maria began, but got no further.

"Viola is not unreasonable," he broke in, arms lifted from his sides as the servant slipped a broad-sleeved, black silk shirt over his head, tucking the ends neatly into his beige breeches. The servant then began to wind a dark red cravat around his master's neck, "Should the Artemisians be completely eradicated, I am sure she can be convinced to let us live, provided that we step down."

Maria balked, "Step down -!" she cried, "What a ridiculous idea!"

"Only for a short while, of course," Reito grinned, "All good things to those who wait..."

* * *

Vér(ily) Šizsur Erzsébet Báthory Violàsz of Ecsed hated her name. Despised it. It savoured of something darker than one's wont, hinted at shaded corners she preferred left in their be-shadowed state. A name defined that which it was assigned to, gave it purpose and enlightened others to its true nature—a nature perhaps better left unbidden, unseen, as its very essence blinded not unlike bright flashes blinded, and left in its wake splotches the colour of bereavement, only with this darkness a redder shade appeared and bestowed that all too familiar sense of lost innocence, of things done in the dark.

Blood red eyes blinked, swirling slightly inwards, like crimson water caught in tidal pools, while the bodies of fallen soldiers nudged against the rocks, facedown in the slinking waves. Shizuru sat at the small yet elegant table in her personal quarters, holding a cup of tea in her hands. Natsuki had brewed it for her, but she had yet to take even a sip. Instead, she rolled it between her palms. Thoughts moved too quickly through her mind, no more than forked flashes of instinct, strokes of thunder while above the clouds churned with a coming storm. In the background, Natsuki moved, a lithesome creature, more deerlike with her nimble steps and darting hands, dainty hooves that tread, tufted ears that flicked. The hart gambolled about, heedless in this field fraught with unknown dangers, grazing as though set to pasture there, though the surrounding trees were dark and thickly wooded. What hunter lurked there, crouching upon a mossy slab of fractured stone?

She sat, stiff, and nodded in return to Natsuki, who spoke her name in an amicable fashion, though Shizuru's movements seemed always carefully calculated, even when she flashed a bit of teeth in return, for she never wished for those around her, especially her beloved Natsuki, to ever see the true functionings of her mind—and the body was such a plain for disaster to abound; who knew what might come crashing into exposed glades. Something fearsome to behold, no doubt. Some small part of her smiled at the thought. Could she just imagine their horrified expressions? Like when she drove Maria and Reito from the throne room. All tinged with that self-deprecation and self-interest and self and self and only the self mattered to those poor fools; their darkest thoughts could never conceive the kinds of terrors she could inflict, deal with an ease she reveled in. They would cower before her, as they should, and she would have to but reach out to the nearest on her right—the right was the best, no left dragging fruitlessly behind—and with a shattering vice shear by way of jagged talon and claw, dimpled smile and maw.

Musn't think that. Musn't let these things loose. Locked away they are, and there they shall remain.

_Shizuru, _the Keres called. Keres in the darkness, Keres in the folds, Keres ever linger while reality she molds.

Shizuru twitched her fingers as if jolting back to the fore with twined rope her mask. Musn't let it slip again, she scolded. Musn't. Musn't.

Natuski hadn't noticed anything. A small mercy.

Even as she reprimanded and gathered rein, her eyes followed Natsuki figure; embrous eyes that flickered with the wind across her form and noted the ways to best drain her dry, to cut the artery at the thigh, two quick slices, the girl would barely feel it, to wrench the head back by that dark hair, to break the skin with her fangs, to rend the belly, to dash the entrails, to reach in, to hold the heart, to pinch the arterial stems between her sharp nails and sever their fibrous coils, to...

Breathing in deeply to steady herself, Shizuru slowly rolled the cooling teacup between her palms, gaze fastened on some desperate spot on the wall, the place where Mikoto the Moira had crashed against and fractured. She merely wished for escape, some small respite without people to plague her where she could grapple and firmly grip, once again, that faint reality.

Natsuki offered that brief respite for now by not allowing the Nobles to enter, not even Shiho, but she also offered an even greater temptation. If Shizuru had thought that resisting the magnetic pull of the girl's blood was difficult before, it was nothing compared to the Herculean effort it now required. She could see the blood pulsing just beneath silken skin, red beneath the pale, the eagle-swift rise and slump at the girl's wrists slowing to a snail's crawl. Shizuru stared, unblinking, breathless, and every moment was a lifetime. She felt the hunger rising, that mindless tide which lashed at the cliffs of her crumbling restraint. The blood was there. So close. It was red. Red, that frequent hue—_vörösokker_. Splayed length-wise across long lines, imbruing in spots more than just the hands of a certain lady and her Cawdorian Thane. (1) She wanted to rush forward, to cup those smooth cheeks in her hands, _ifjú hévvel_, red across the youthful visage, _aranyifjúság_, filling her own palm, _lángvörös_.

It fled from her then, and she flew back to the years of senselessness, one after the other as though a small child, never truly understanding the meaning and the reasons behind savage wantings. After a certain mark, all faded to scintillating abscondances that drifted to the floor, feather-white ash with red rims—like demons' eyes risen from the dank below—the result of rhyming, rime-riddled maternity. _Froid est la coeur de la mére, et froides sont ses mains._

_In vestibulum venit, sed in suo animo mansit saevae memorem matris ob iram, cui mens mentis incensa inops saevit, qualis impia Fama rupta in urbes, in arva bacchata est, Thyiademque amentem stimulavit. Adhuc fessam chlamydem—pulverulentam cura crudeli—tulerat, nunc istam exuit tandem, tamen non destruxit; suboles casus magna. Chlamys undosa funeris hiberni ex umero ad terram tetendit, fudit velut vinus fusus inter media cornua candentis vaccae, sub inhiante pectore, peragrans spirantia exta miserae puellae esura._

_Esura. Posse rapere voluit iuventam puellam, tenere in dextra ignes sanguinum ast hic stetit dum gazae mundi congestae maesti undique lapsae sunt—praedae vitarum—utinam ne nata esset!_

_Ne finge. Ne finge._

_Sic ambulabat, non videns, non sperans, servans aeternam sub pectore vulnerusque aeternas furias,_

_tacita. _…...

It drove her mad, the wanting, the waiting between, the brutal shame of exultation. All around they had lain upon the sand; seven slain wolves were they, whose three teeth fashioned the coat of her arms—red on a field of black—fallen prey to the eternal circularly winding serpent. As she sat there and rolled the tea between her palms, she felt walled up, walled up with only a slit near the floor where thin rays shed their meagre stock, the crop of winter year, and beyond the stone-deep walls wine-dark, white-lined waves struck at the shore, pulling, pulling the still, rag-doll bodies to the sea.

"Shizuru? Shizuru?"

For a moment, she heard her name being called as though from far away. Blinking, she looked around her as though remembering where she was.

"Shizuru...are you alright?"

Natsuki was kneeling before her, just in the act of picking up a fallen teacup. Tepid tea had splashed all across the priceless carpet. It took a moment for Shizuru to figure out that the teacup had fallen from her hands without her realising it. Clearing her throat, she replied, her voice low and hoarse, "Yes. Thank you. I'm...fine."

Brow slightly furrowed, looking concerned, Natsuki rose and placed the teacup on the nearby table, "If you say so..." Then she leaned forward and gently kissed Shizuru on the brow.

The Countess froze. Stock-still, she waited for the girl to pull away, but the kiss lasted longer than it should have. She could feel those full lips just above the bridge of her aristocratic nose, clinging to the skin there, and those full, dark eyelashes, like dappled shadows before dusk, flutter against her hairline. So warm, yet somehow cool. The kiss was light as a breath of wind and the girl's scent began to pervade her nostrils. Shizuru's breath caught in spite of herself, and she gripped the arms of her chair, feeling the wood beneath her clenched fingers strain and creak.

And then it was over.

Natsuki pulled back and headed towards the bathroom with sure strides, "I'm going to take a bath. Would you like to join me?"

"No, thank you," Shizuru croaked, and she watched Natsuki walk away, trying to quell the overwhelming urge to stalk her like prey.

* * *

**1: a certain lady and her Cawdorian Thane = this is in reference to Lady Macbeth and her husband, Macbeth, the Thane of Cawdor. I'm a big fan of Shakespeare, though I prefer his comedies. Much Ado About Nothing is still one of my all-time favourites. **

**If you translate some of the non-English, I will give you a prize! If you correct me on some of the non-English, I will _also _give you a prize! (Trust me, I'm sure there's some that needs tweaking...)**

**-Kore**


	43. Chapter 43

**Salvete, omnes!**

** It's been a long while since I've posted, and for that I apologise. School is finally out and I am on summer vacation. Thank the gods. I need a vacation. I am dog tired. But! I decided to revisit this story. It's so close to being finished. I can't just leave it. Here we go, then! On with the next chapter! **  
** At the end of this chapter, I also included a translation of the Latin from the last chapter. If you'd like, feel free to take a gander.**

** Enjoy!**

** Dislcaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

Natsuki took a full cup of tea away, slowly unclenching Shizuru's fingers from around the thin ceramic. Shizuru's hands shook. Natsuki could hear the swift catch of breath in Shizuru's lungs as she drew too near. She turned with the cup in hand and walked to the nearby sink, where she poured its contents. Natsuki sighed and watched the brown liquid swirl down the drain, feeling Shizuru's burning gaze upon her back and ignoring it.

Natsuki knew what was going on, though she did not let her understanding show. Shizuru was fading. Her Shizuru, the Shizuru she knew and cared so deeply for was becoming a pale shadow. Instead, the former Countess was beginning to grow, thriving on the increasingly powerful presence of the Keres, overwhelming the kind, giving soul that was Shizuru Viola. Natsuki watched as Shizuru slipped further and further from her, and she was powerless to do anything to stop it. Everyday Natsuki watched Shizuru's eyes grow more and more hollow, that mercurial spark which defined Shizuru's personality dimming, replaced by raw bloodlust and mindlessness.

This was not her Shizuru. Her Shizuru was warm and giving. All Natsuki saw before her now was the Countess, nothing more than an exterior used to mask the woman within, to protect her. But this...this was the Countess embodied, mind and spirit. There was nothing of the Shizuru she knew here.

Three nights ago, Natsuki had been able to coerce Shizuru to go to bed with her. Shizuru had been incredibly gentle, and her gentleness could have been taken for sweetness, but Natsuki could see the desperation in those crimson eyes. Shizuru's kisses could have been taken for eagerness, but they stung with desperation in spite of herself. The next night, Shizuru had come to bed, but as soon as she thought Natsuki was asleep, she had risen and sat as far from Natsuki as she possibly could without leaving the room, all the while watching her, clenching her hands, quietly muttering to herself in the dark, her gaze flashing scarlet through the gloom. Natsuki had not been asleep, but she had pretended to be so. And then last night, Shizuru had point blank refused to come to bed, and Natsuki had not pushed her.

What was the point anymore? This wasn't even her Shizuru. Why should she fight for what was lost?

But Shizuru couldn't be completely gone. There had to be some way Natsuki could reach her. She couldn't just give up. Not so easily. Wasn't her conviction stronger? Her love?

Love. She loved Shizuru, didn't she? Her heart ached when Shizuru smiled. She always wanted to just touch her, to hold her close until neither could tell where one ended and the other began. The thought of losing Shizuru was heart-wrenching; she didn't even want to think about it. And yet, even with all that, she had never said the words aloud. She knew what she felt was real, but in truth it terrified her.

Natsuki had always thought that this whole love business was just a load of...well. A load of shit, really. People must have exaggerated. All those tales in movies and books were just silly and unrealistic. But then Shizuru came along. And everything changed. Suddenly her brain no longer wanted to see reason and her heart ruled her every action where Shizuru was concerned. She couldn't control her emotions anymore, and her emotions ruled her actions these days. It was unbelievably aggravating. Normally she was always so cool and in control and now...now she was a slave to the object of her affections.

And she was afraid.

Setting the teacup aside, Natsuki turned, looking at the Countess, "Shizuru," she said softly, "We need to go. Shiho and the others are waiting for us."

Shizuru's hollow gaze met her own. The Countess nodded and stood and they prepared to leave the room for the first time in nearly a week.

* * *

"Give me the suit."

"I'm not giving you the suit."

"I'm not going to ask again, Mai."

"You're not well, Midori. You shouldn't be standing, let alone dressing yourself."

"Give. Me. The. Suit."

Shiho groaned, rubbing her forehead, and finally just snapped, "Give her the damn suit, Mai!"

Nostrils flaring, Mai clutched Midori's trademark white suit in her hands before finally relenting and handing it over. With a grunt of approval, Midori snatched the suit away and tossed it on the bed, untying the back of her hospital gown. Her movements were slow, sluggish, and Mai stepped forward almost immediately, "Here. Let me help you."

"Back away, Mai," Midori said coldly, shooting her second in command a glare, "I'll do it myself."

Holding up her hands as though in surrender, Mai took a few steps back. She watched Midori struggle to clamber into her white trousers with only one arm, "You're so stubborn..." she muttered.

Midori just ignored her.

"Humans," Shiho said to herself in disgust.

The room Midori had been recovering in was empty but for these three, unlikely friends. Though Shiho would never have admitted to these two humans as being friends. With a sigh, Shiho cross her legs and rearranged the fluffy skirts of her dark blue dress. Creamy lace edged the hems of her dress and the wide trailing sleeves. She had brushed out her hair until it shone in twin ringlets draped across her shoulders. The two Cynthians continued to bicker in the background while Shiho leaned her elbow on the arm of her seat and rested her chin upon her palm. With a huff, she blew her bangs out of her face and stuck her lip out petulantly like a bored child. All the while Midori fended off Mai's assistance. Secretly, Shiho smiled and watched the proceedings with an amused eye.

"We should attack now, while they're weak," Midori said.

Mai snorted, "Weak? How do you reckon their weak? They just attacked us!"

"Precisely," Midori countered, "They attacked not out of want for initiative, but out of desperation. Their position is weak with Shizuru and House Árpádok on our side. They hoped to regain lost ground by weakening us, but they did not manage to kill us."

"Yes," Shiho drawled dryly, straightening a wrinkle from her dark blue dress, "What a pity."

"Oh, shut up!" Mai snapped at her.

Shiho grinned, flashing a bit of fang.

"It's good to see you up and moving, Midori."

The inhabitants of the room started, spooked. Natsuki had appeared in the doorway, flanked by Shizuru, but while the girl looked healthy, spritely even, the Countess looked quite the opposite. Natsuki entered the room without any hesitation, but the Countess remained, haunting the space in which she lurked, the shadows Natsuki had left behind, like a _dira_ crouched upon the sacred threshold. (1) Midori and Mai seemed put at ease by Natsuki's presence, but Shiho froze and she eyed her dark mistress warily.

Something was not right. The others did not seem to sense it, but Shiho could. Slowly, Shizuru stepped into the room, her movements too controlled, every muscle held firm, coiled and sinuous like that of a snake. When Shizuru walked it was with a lion's stride, smooth and sure and prowling. That crimson gaze seemed to glow brighter, embrous coals caught in a wafting breeze, smouldering in the caverns of her shadowed brow. Those jackal's eyes remained fixed upon Natsuki, riveted in place, noting her every move as though the flip of Natsuki's hand through her dark mane of hair were the lazy swish of an equiline tail. And when Shizuru stopped once she had entered the room, she stood too still, too poised; not even the barest quiver broke the spell. She was an entranced serpent, or perhaps a marble statue, or an emperor of antiquity utterly still upon her gilded throne. (2)

Shiho had seen this look before. This was the stance of a predator. But never before had Shiho seen this predatory appearance so intensely. The raw perils that dwelled in their very midst made Shiho recoil and tense, on her guard. Why couldn't the others sense the Blood Countess' control fraying? Why did they not run, shrieking for their lives? Was this the true face of the Keres, of death embodied? Was this terror?

"Good of you to join us," Midori said dryly, struggling to button up her shirt with one hand, "You two have been cooped up in your room as long as I've been stuck in this bed!"

Natsuki paused before answering, "After the destruction of Phaesporia, we all needed a bit of..._recuperation_ time."

Shiho slowly shifted her position so that both feet were planted on the ground and she was perched upon the edge of her seat, watching Shizuru's every move, ready to leap from her seat at the slightest action. The Countess was completely still, though, unnaturally still, never taking her gaze from Natsuki. She gave no indication that she had even heard Midori speak.

"Well, we are fortunate you came when you did," Mai began, crossing her arms, "We were just discussing our next move."

"Attack."

Everyone fell quiet and turned to look at Shizuru. The Countess had spoken that single word, her voice cold and unyielding as a glacier making its slow crawl through a mountain pass.

"What was that?" Mai asked with a quizzical frown, incredulous.

The Countess turned her burning eyes upon Mai and the officer froze, a mouse caught in the gaze of a snake, "I said: attack. Reito and Maria are weak. The opportunity to strike is now."

"There! See!" Midori gestured towards Shizuru, the trailing sleeve flopping over the stump of her lost arm, her expression smug as she flipped an end of her white and gold tie around her neck, measuring out the ends before beginning to fix a single-Windsor knot at her throat, "What did I tell you?"

"But," Mai spluttered, "We need to at least protect our remaining base! Leave a third of our forces here and -"

"No," The Countess cut her off, "We attack in full force," her voice lowered to a deadly hiss and her eyes shone brighter, "I want their heads."

For a moment, the room was absolutely silent, but then Midori barked out a laugh, "That's what I like to hear!" She finished tightening and straightening her tie, and reached out to sling her jacket over her shoulders, "Mai, would you take care of this, please?" she dangled the jacket sleeve in front of her officer.

Mai rolled her eyes, "Oh, _now_ you want my help?"

"Stop complaining and just do it."

Shaking her head and grumbling to herself, Mai pinned the left sleeve of Midori's suit to the upper arm, keeping the cloth out of the way. With a grunt of thanks, Midori rotated her left shoulder to make sure the pin kept in place when she moved, "Yohko did a damn good job. I can hardly feel a thing."

"That would be the medication talking," Mai said.

Midori shot her second in command a quick glare, but Mai just smiled back innocently. Clearing her throat, Midori turned back to Shizuru, "You'll have their heads soon enough, Countess."

Shizuru nodded curtly. When she spoke, it was addressing Shiho, though she did not look at her, "Shiho, ready the army."

Shiho blinked, "Me, mistress? I would have thought you would want to see to the army..."

"I have other matters to attend to," was the Countess' enigmatic reply. Her crimson gaze returned to Natsuki, and the girl met it unflinchingly, though a hint of indescribable sadness hung about her.

"Excellent!" Midori fumbled around in her jacket, "Now if only I could find my flask, we could get started...Have you seen my flask, Mai?"

Mai hooked her thumb in her pocket where she had hidden the silver flask, "Flask? Nope! You might want to ask Sagisawa. She probably swiped it."

Midori's eyes narrowed and she clenched her fist, "Yohko...I should have known..."

The two Artemisians did not notice Shizuru and Natsuki silently slip out of the room together, but Shiho watched them go, wondering what exactly had just happened.

* * *

Nao rubbed her eyes. They were streaked with red and lined with dark rings. She had not been sleeping well for the last week or so. Things had not been going so great. Phaesporia had been destroyed. Midori was just now getting out of recovery. It wasn't that Nao had a soft spot for Midori, but she wasn't heartless either. She was worried. Worried about the fate of her company. Worried about the fate of her leader. Worried about her own fate. And on top of it all, she was getting nowhere with this case.

She had been staring at this computer screen for days to no avail. Nothing seemed to line up. Somehow she was missing something. But what was it?

_Maybe I just need a break_, she thought to herself.

Leaning back in her seat, she pushed the front two legs of her chair up so that she balanced on the back set, leaning her knees against her desk. She scrubbed her hands through her short red hair and slapped her cheeks lightly to wake herself up. When that didn't work, she reached for the packet of cigarettes in the jacket hanging on the back of her chair. She stuck the last cigarette into her mouth and sighed down at the now empty paper box. She would have to go out soon and buy more.

What a pain.

The cigarette was between her lips, but she did not light it just yet. Instead she just played with it, bobbing the small white cylinder up and down lazily. Her dark grey shirt had a few buttons undone and the dark green tie that went with it hung on the back of her chair with her black, double-breasted jacket. Her shoes were off, leaving only her black and grey striped socks. She was the only one in the room. Takeda had gone out to buy coffee. She should have asked him to buy more cigarettes.

_Merde_.

Nao let the legs of her chair fall back down to the floor and she stood, making her way to the map of Europe on the wall behind her. Pictures of the deceased in her case had been pinned up on the locations that they had been found. It appeared to be a random scatter across Europe with clusters in certain cities. Hands on hips, she surveyed the map yet again. Frowning, she tilted her head.

_Wait a minute..._

She dragged her finger from one pin to the next across the map. Was that an 'A' shape? No, there was another angle. A star perhaps? Bit it was missing a point.

It clicked.

Nao gaped. The cigarette fell from her lips. Suddenly, she looked around furiously for her shoes. Where were they? Where the fuck were they? Aha!

She tugged the long laces from her shoes, cursing when they wouldn't come free right away. At last, she had two long laces in her hands and she rushed back to the map. Using the laces, she strung a path from one pin to the next across the map. When she was finished, she had an incomplete star. Upside-down. A pentagram.

"Well, fuck me sideways," Nao whispered in disbelief.

"Is that an invitation?"

Startled, Nao whirled around to see that Takeda had entered the room without her realising it, bearing two cups of coffee. He had a goofy grin on his face.

"Yeah, yeah, very funny, Masashi," Nao waved him over, "Now get your ass over here and look at this."

Curious, Takeda did as she told, putting down the coffees on a table as he made his way through the room, "What d'ya got here, then?"

It was one of the rare moments that Nao actually smiled, "I figured it all out. Take a look," she pointed at the map before turning to it triumphantly, "Look at this! There's a point on the pentagram missing. If we take the two strings and attach them, then they end up in...Vilnius..." she pinned down the last ends of her shoe lace, "Looks like we're going to Lithuania, Masashi!"

But Takeda was quiet and did not reply.

Scowling in confusion, Nao started to turn around, "Masashi?"

A damp cloth was pressed to her face.

The world spun.

Breathing heavily, Takeda stared down at Nao's body where it had fallen unconscious to the floor. He clutched the handkerchief in one hand, and a small, nozzled plastic bottle in the other, a container filled with A.C.E. mixture. The air shimmered before him and Nagi appeared, crouching over Nao with a cat-like smile spread across his pale face.

"Good job, Novice," Nagi's pink eyes glimmered like open wounds in the pale computer light, "The Revenant will be so pleased."

* * *

**(1) _dira_: the "Dirae" is another name for the Furies. They are also known as the Erinyes and the Eumenides. **

**(2) emperors sitting completely still on the throne is in reference to the sons of Constantine, who started the tradition of sitting stock-still on the throne. It was something people would marvel at and was a tradition that would pass down through the Medieval Ages.**

* * *

**OMAKE**

** Takeda: Hey, Nao, does this smell like chloroform to you?**  
** Nao: Wut-? (passes out)**  
** Takeda: Wow. I can't believe that actually worked.**

* * *

** TRANSLATION: (please note that this translation is very raw. I just pumped it out in a few minutes while watching some television.)**  
** "Into the vestibule she went, but she remained in her mind on account of the unforgetting anger of the savage mother, whose mind raged without a mind, incensed, just like wicked Rumour unleashed in the city, she raved in the fields, and she roused the frantic Thyiad**. **Thus far, she bore a tired cloak-dusty with cruel care-now, at last, she stripped it off, though she did not destroy it; the great offspring plummeted. The flowing cloak of ruin stretched from her wintry shoulder to the earth, it flowed like wine poured between the middle horn of a shining white heifer, but with the chest gaping, scouring the miserable girl's breathing entrails about to be eaten. **  
** About to be eaten. She wished to be able to snatch the young girl, to hold in her right hand the fires of blood, yet here she stood, while the treasures of the gloomy world having been gathered from every side slipped away-the spoils of lives-if only she had never been born!**  
** Do not think it. Do not think it. **  
** Thus she was walking, not seeing, not hoping, nursing an eternal wound beneath her breast and eternal furies,**  
** silent."**


	44. Chapter 44

**Salvete, omnes!**

** Here I am again. I meant to post sooner, but I got carried away by the fruits of summer vacation. In other words, I was being lazy. **  
** If you have any questions about this chapter or the last, please feel free to PM me. If not, then enjoy!**

** Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

With a small pop, Midori withdrew a lolli from her mouth and glared down at it. She would have much preferred to have her flask back. Some vodka in it. Or perhaps some whiskey. This would have to do, though. Sighing, she stuck the hard candy back into her mouth. She brought it over to the side, nestling it comfortably in her cheek. After a while, the slowly melting sucrose would make the skin of her inner cheek feel like it was disintegrating. But at that point, she would just flip the candy to the other cheek. Then rinse and repeat.

Yohko had feigned innocence about the flask. But Midori knew somebody had it! And they'd damn well better give it back soon! Or heads would roll. Midori already had a headache. Even with the meds Yohko insisted continue to be pumped into her system. At least the doctor had allowed Camilla back into her presence again. Apparently, the lioness had been more than a bit stressed due to the damage done to her bonded human. Midori had no recollection of how she had gotten her injury. All she remembered was a wall of living darkness that sang of her death. Reito had become a thing that seethed and whispered and crooned, lulling her into losing an arm and almost losing her life.

Midori tensed, her eyes darkening. She could feel her arm. As though it were still there. But whenever she looked down, there was only a pinned up sleeve. The ghost arm itched. She wanted to scratch, but it was pointless. There was nothing there.

Something nudged her. Blinking her olive green eyes, Midori glanced down to see Camilla rubbing up against her leg, purring deep in her throat, a rumbling sound, almost menacing in its timbre. Midori grasp the lioness' scruff, burying the fingers of her right hand deep into the white fur dappled with snowy grey. Midori was briefly comforted by Camilla's presence. The vampiric lioness shared a bond with her. Currently that bond radiated a strange warmth. It was a bold presence in her mind, like a bulwark or a sentry along stony fortifications.

They stood together, mistress and companion, on a gently sloping hill, looking out over the fields sparsely dotted with a few farmhouses. The Alps towered in the distance, their lofty mantles perennially laden with snow. Clouds smeared the sky just north of Liechtenstein. It was a blustery day. The wind tugged at the tough canvas of the erected tents like they were sails in a sea of grass. Her camp, the Artemisian war camp, stretched before her in neat rows. She stood before her own tent. Earlier she had been inside, but she tired of sitting too still for too long. She grew restless waiting for the coming battle. Camilla could feel the tension in her mistress building. The lioness' purr turned to a low growl. Vibrations ran up Midori's hand and into her arm.

They watched soldiers and medics walking about, human and vampire alike. The camp was shared with the forces of House Árpádok, though the Countess was nowhere to be seen. Shiho and Mai were still in Midori's tent, bickering about invasion plans into Austria and playfully jabbing each other with insults. The two got along surprisingly well despite their initial animosity. Midori smiled slightly and shook her head. Mai and Shiho continued to pretend to hate one another even though their friendship was solidly in place now. In the Countess' stead, Shiho manoeuvred the Árpádok troops, whereas Shizuru was cooped up in her own lush tent across the camp. Even now, on the eve of battle, the Countess hid with Natsuki, finding some meagre form of shelter in the girl's company, away from the prying eyes of others.

A swift breeze threatened to pull Midori's auburn hair from where it was bound at the nape of her neck. The hems of her white suit-jacket lifted and would have flapped around her waist had not the two sides been securely buttoned together. Even so, a chill filled her. The gales from the Alps were icy. Autumn was upon them. Tonight would herald in a harvest moon. Already, the crest of it blossomed over the mountains, heavy and gold in the evening light of the setting sun.

"Nice pet."

Frowning, Midori turned to see who it was that had approached her, "She's not a pet. She -" but Midori stopped halfway through her sentence and a smile broke out on her features, brightening her face, "Chie!" she greeted with considerable more cheer, "How good to see you again!"

Chie Hallard was smiling calmly at her fiery commander. The District Officer of the East, Chie was also known as the Blue Rose, a name given to her by her men years ago. She started forward to embrace Midori, but Camilla growled fiercely at her. Rather than be offended, though, Chie just raised her hands and back away slowly, still smiling softly, "I surrender!" she said directly to the lioness. Camilla flicked her tail haughtily in response.

Midori laughed, "Sorry about that. Camilla's gotten rather protective due to recent events."

"I understand." Chie gestured to Midori's missing arm, "Can't say I blame her."

"And where is Aoi?" Midori queried, quickly changing the subject. She did not want to be reminded of her arm yet again. As if she didn't have enough on her plate.

"She won't be joining us, though she sends her regards," was Hallard's response, though her facial expression gave absolutely no indication as to Aoi's actual whereabouts, "I hear that the dread Countess will be joining us. Tell me; is she as terrible as the legends say?"

Midori's jaw clenched and her gaze hardened, "Worse. Much worse."

* * *

"Battles always bored me," Reito sighed, overly melancholic.

Maria rolled her eyes at his histrionics. Then again, they were only to be expected. Reito was nothing if not an actor. She had had to deal with this for years and she was not unused to blocking out his dramatic reactions.

They had gotten wind of the Artemisian armies amassing on the Austrian border. In response, they had set up their own forces just a few miles away from where the Cynthian camp had settled among the plains. Reito had invaded her tent, lounging petulantly on a collection of plush pillows on the floor, his boots trailing mud all across her carpets. Maria just cocked an eyebrow coolly at him and continued staring at the map spread across her desk, strewn with other bits of parchment and books and a wafer-thin tablet computer. The tablet was the only modern object in the room. All else was soft, leathers and furs and canvas made more velveteen in appearance by the presence of candles, their dripping wax pooling in the pewter plates upon which they were skewered. The glow of firelight made the livid scar across the left side of Maria's face glisten, all gristle and bone.

Raising a goblet to her lips, Maria sipped at the warm liquids within, staining her lips a dark red, almost black in colour, "Well, Reito," she smirked at him over the brim, "so much for your plans."

"Oh, shut up," he grumbled, toying with the silver pommel of the sword slung across his waist on an ebon leather baldric, "It _would_ have worked."

"Alas that fate does not deal in 'woulds' and 'coulds,'" Maria retorted dryly, "Now we are in the exact position we wished to avoid: on the brink of battle with the Artemisians _and _Shizuru."

Reito just waved her comments aside like they were flies buzzing about his head, "The Artemisians I don't worry about. It's Shizuru that should be our sole concern."

"No doubt she will be," Maria muttered, tucking a stray strand of grey hair behind her ear, "but only after the battle."

"Unless we meet her on the field itself," he pointed out, "Then we'll be minced meat. Or worse."

Maria grimaced, for there was truth in those words, "Then let us pray that does not happen."

Reito raised an arm into the air, "I claim the Artemis bitch for my own kill, though! At least I'll get the satisfaction of ripping out her throat before I die."

"Not a chance," Maria snorted, "You can kill your pet, Mai, once and for all. Midori is mine."

* * *

"Shouldn't you wear something else, Shizuru?"

The Countess quirked a sardonic brow at her dark-haired companion, "And why, pray tell, would I want to do that?"

Natsuki shrugged, sifting through the luggage that had been packed by Shizuru's underlings, "I dunno. It just seems...more appropriate, I suppose. Besides, you always wear that same red dress." She lifted a black gown from one of the trunks and turned to hold it under Shizuru's chin and see how it looked, "How about this?"

Shizuru looked down at the gown. It was of ebony silk with red-slashed skirts and gold stitching along the hems and trailing sleeves. It was an elegant affair, to be sure, but Shizuru said shortly, "No."

Natsuki noticed her lover's cold tone and colder stare. Things were still as tense as they had ever been. Even more so, perhaps. She could feel the Countess' hard gaze as though it were an awl boring into her skull. In spite of her attempts over the last few days to find the Shizuru she knew among the rubble of the Keres, only the Countess stared at her now, her eyes smoldering almost in a glare. So intensely bright, like funeral pyres with their swirling sparks and smoke. Pursing her lips into a thin line, Natsuki took the gown away and tossed it back in its place, "Alright. Have it your way, then."

Shizuru merely nodded sharply and turned to leave, but before she could go, Natsuki darted forward and seized Shizuru's wrist. The Countess froze, but did not look back. The words stuck in Natsuki's throat. She wanted to say something. Anything. She didn't even know why she had stopped Shizuru from leaving, but she had this burning urge to keep Shizuru with her, to not let her leave, to not let her go battle. That was foolish of her though, wasn't it? Shizuru was the embodiment of a bloody death, the spirits that haunted battlefields. She thirsted for war. She was bloodlust incarnate. What could Natsuki possibly say to make her stay? What could she do? Profess her love? Pull her into a heart-rending kiss?

It was just a feeling that lingered and had made her reach out to grab Shizuru. A terrible feeling. A feeling that sank in the bottom of her stomach and seared a hole onto the floor. Something was going to happen. Maybe it was the battle. Maybe it was something else. Natsuki did not know. But something...Something was not right. It was not just that Shizuru was losing herself. It was not just that people would die. It was something more. Something greater than themselves. There was more at stake here than what appeared to be, and Natsuki could _feel_ it seething within her, plaguing her like an afterthought, like a nightmare she had just awoken from moments before but could not fully recall.

For an eternity, they stood there, Natsuki's cold fingers around Shizuru's warm wrist, neither of them moving, both of them reluctant to pull away. Finally, Natsuki licked her lips and stammered, "G-Good luck."

She let go.

And the Countess swept from the tent without a word.

Natsuki felt lightheaded once the Countess had gone. Dread filled her, brought her to the brink of sinking to the floor and cradling her head in her hands, not knowing what else she could do. She wanted her Shizuru back. She wanted to erase whatever hurt Shizuru felt. She wanted to drive the Keres out and drag Shizuru to some cabin in the woods and live a nice, quiet life together. She just...She just wanted to _be_ with Shizuru. That's all. That's all she wanted. She didn't want this war. She didn't want this...this wretched _drama_.

At another time they might have had peace. In another life. But not this one.

A minute surge of power behind her brought Natsuki's attention crashing back to reality. She whirled about, eyes blazing with emerald lightning, fists grasping globes of pure white energy. She snarled, ready to make any unwanted intruder nothing more than a smoking crater in the floor. What she saw, however, made her pause.  
A boy stood behind her, a twisted smile on his pale face. His hair was a light, premature grey and his eyes gleamed silver and pink, like the flesh of a slaughtered chicken splayed before the butcher's knife, "You want a way to banish the Keres?" his voice came like honey laced with thorns, "You want to live your life with the Countess, free from pain and depravity and villainy?"

Natsuki stared at him, but did not answer, nor give any indication of her answer, but her silence betrayed her.

The boy's slashed grin widened and he held out his hand, palm up, "Take my hand," he said, "and I will take you to one who can make all your wishes possible."

"Who are you?" she asked, "How do you know -?"

But he cut her off, mid question, "There isn't time for all that. Take my hand, or you will lose your beloved Countess forever."

She squinted at him, suspicious. After but a moment, though, the power died in her eyes and faded from her fists. Slowly, she reached out, hesitated, then placed her hand in his. He grasped her fingers in an iron grip and in a blink they vanished, only to reappear in a dark, abandoned cathedral. The roof had all but collapsed, leaving the vault like the ribbed bones of a whale careening above, gripped with ivy. Heavy clouds boiled low above them, pregnant with rain soon to come. Precipitation already dripped along the ruins in a steady chorus. There were no lights for miles, but Natsuki could see clearly.

A lone figure stood not far off, hooded and cloaked. Nagi started towards it and gestured for Natsuki to follow. When they neared, it reached up and lowered its deep hood, revealing a familiar face.

Bewildered, Natsuki spluttered incredulously, "Tomoe?"

"Hello, Natsuki," Tomoe smiled and her gray eyes glinted, "Or, should I say, Hespera?"

* * *

**Hope you liked it! Until next time.**

** -Kore**


	45. Chapter 45

**Salvete, omnes!**

**Again, sorry for the delay. But, here's chapter 45! We're almost done, my friends! Almost! I'd also like to announce that more of my work (not fan-fiction) has been uploaded to a wonderful little site called Wattpad. My username is Roman_Imperial, if you'd like to come on by and say hello, then I'd be more than happy to chat! Heck, if you want to chat on ffnet, I'm fine with that too. Send me a PM if you have any comments, questions, concerns and/or complaints, and we'll talk. I'm very friendly. Mostly :)**

**Until next time!**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine**

* * *

Natsuki stared. Something was not right. Something in Tomoe's smile. It mirrored the young boy's, crooked, too wide, showing too many teeth. It was a smile that never touched her eyes; they remained a dull, lifeless grey, dead looking, as though the sightless eyes of a corpse staring up at the low roof of its cedar coffin.

"Hespera?" Natsuki feigned innocence, never taking her sights from Tomoe, "Who's that?"

Tomoe made a disappointed noise, but she never stopped smiling, "Aww...That's precious. Playing all innocent like that. I know very well who and what you are, Natsuki Kruger, Hespera, Nymph of the Eternal Sunset, Goddess of an Icy Morn, Guardian of the Tree that Bears Golden Fruit."

Natsuki tensed, "The boy said I could help Shizuru by coming here. That I could end her pain, her hunger and suffering."

"Did he?" Tomoe patted Nagi's pale head, like an owner giving attention to her dog, "What a good little liar my apparition is."

"Apparition...?" Natsuki's voice trailed off as she watched. Tomoe leaned down to whisper something in Nagi's ear and his body just faded from existence, going ethereal, transparent, then nothing.

"How sweet," Tomoe turned back to Natsuki, "that you wish to save the Countess. She would not do the same for you. Of this I can assure you."

Natsuki gritted her teeth, "That's not true."

"Isn't it? Tell me, how well do you know the Blood Countess of Ecsed?" When Natsuki did not answer, Tomoe's sinister smile only broadened, "What's this? No response? Is your confidence in Viola flagging, Hespera? Do you realise at long last that the Keres are not to be trusted? That Shizuru isn't worth the meagre flesh that encases her, the mortal scum of the earth, dredged up through the millenia to mould her mortal form? I was there, you see. She begged me to save her precious Nina, her lover, your ancestor, the reason why Hespera was transferred from child to child in your family. It was all Shizuru, your beloved Countess. She started this chain of events. I was but the humble, patient vessel, waiting for the right moment, the right generation."

"If she isn't worth anything," Natsuki countered, "then why are you trying to lure her here?"

"Lure her -?"

"Don't play coy with me," Natsuki growled, "The only reason for bringing me here would be to lure Shizuru her after me. To try to turn me against her by telling me these things."

"You flatter yourself -"

This time, it was Natsuki who smiled, "Oh, do I?"

But Tomoe was not thrown off in any way, "I want both of you and neither of you. I want what the two of you will produce for me. What I have desired for centuries."

At this, Natsuki's puzzlement only grew, "What...? What could we possibly give you?"

An eerie gleam entered Tomoe's grey gaze, and her face seemed frighteningly more animated. Natsuki thought she much preferred it the other way, the way it had been so expressionless before, "I want that which you guard, Hespera," and Tomoe seemed almost breathless at the mere thought, so suffused with anticipation was she. She stepped forward, hands out as though beseeching for alms, grasping, and Natsuki recoiled from her, stumbling backwards, "I want entrance into the Black Garden, the Garden that Rose from the Ashes, sprinkled with flowers the colour of your hair, like the locks of the radiant Lakenae."

"I don t -" Natsuki felt the fear rising in her gorge at the intense, frenzied look painting Tomoe's features, strangling her, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, but you do," Tomoe lunged out, grasping Natsuki by the shoulders and dragging her forward to utter her harshly breathed words, "Together, you, Hespera, and the Keres will grant me entry into the Garden, and there I will gorge upon the Tree that Bears Golden Fruit, and true immortality, true power, true divinity will be mine."

Eyes wide, Natsuki gave a great cry and tried summoning her power to throw Tomoe back, to burn her to a charred and smoking crisp, but nothing happened. Frantically glancing down at her hands, Natsuki could do nothing as she was wrenched forward and hauled into the nearby Cathedral, towering above them.

"Your powers will not work on me, Hespera," Tomoe's face was expressionless once again, a masked facade, and her grip upon Natsuki was like steel, "I have learned to harness the power of the gods. But that power leaves me, slowly slipping away over time regardless of what I do to try and stop it. We mortals are not so blessed as you who have been chosen to act as divine hosts. But even that will not sate me," she was rambling now, ranting, her words mumbled more to herself than to Natsuki, who was struggling in vain, "A god that could leave me at any time? No, no, that won't do at all. I will be a god," and her eyes shone again with that unnatural light that seemed to be drawn from the darkness, "I will be a god."

"Let me go!" Natsuki dug in her heels, gritting her teeth and heaving against Tomoe's iron grip. When Tomoe turned, Natsuki clenched her free hand into a fist and threw her entire body weight behind it. Tomoe's face snapped back. Taking that one brief moment, Natsuki leaped forward, reaching around her adversary's head and swiftly wrenching it around. A sickening crack filled the air as Tomoe's neck snapped. But her grip on Natsuki's wrist only tightened. Slowly, her head twitched and turned, and Tomoe fixed her eyes upon Natsuki once more, who stared back, horror painting her features in broad strokes.

"A pitiful attempt at my life, Hespera," Tomoe's voice was once more soft and calm, "But you can not kill that which is already dead."

And all around them, the earth shuddered. Gravestones that had been aligned in neat rows tilted and fell askew, and the dirt mounds at their bases trembled and shook. Above, the Cathedral gave a great groan, stone blocks creaking. Forms rose from the deep reaches of the earth, dirt and dust infusing their limbs, staining them a darker hue. Strips of flesh hung, ragged, from their tired bodies. Rotten meat fell from their chest cavities in clumps. Bone and sinew peeked from beneath; some no more than bare skeletons dragging carpets of hair like briar patches that tumbled from scalped crowns. They shambled forward, broken limbs left behind, limping. They made no noise apart from when they stepped, and then only cracks like dry leaves carried through the air.

"What the hell are you?" Natsuki gasped.

Tomoe smiled that paralyzing smile, "I am the Revenant, And this, she gestured with her free arm to the multitude of minions clambering around them, is the final act of my Carnival."

* * *

Blood.

Shizuru could smell it. None had been shed. Yet. Even so, the tang of it was in the air, suffusing her, tickling her nose, filling her lungs and mouth. The sweet iron of it lingered in the back of her throat and upon her tongue. She could not breathe. To breathe was to succumb to its seductress song, its siren call. Oh, but she wanted to. How she wanted to gorge herself upon the inhabitants of this mortal realm. To drain their senseless bodies dry and and fill the seas and valleys with their carcasses, where they would bloat and rot and fill the air with the dulcet scent of death. It would take but a moment. Just a few moments. She could feel the life s blood now, sustaining her, sending chills through her, thrilling her to her very core until she cried out for mercy at the intensity of such infernal passions, such insufferable suffering.

"Shizuru..."

A voice came through the mists of her thoughts, pulling her back into the present. Blinking, Shizuru turned to regard who had addressed her.

It was Shiho, her voice low, almost carrying a note of concern, which Shizuru ignored, "What is it, Shiho?"

Shiho just gestured with her head towards the others. Midori, Mai and the newcomer, Chie Hallard, were all staring at her expectantly, "The lines are ready," Midori announced, as though repeating herself, for her words were slower than usual, as if she were speaking to someone blind and dumb, "Do you wish to take command of your tips and officially start the attack?"

Shizuru turned her attention to the shallow plains beneath them. Rows upon rows of soldiers were aligned there, and across the way stood Maria and Reito's forces, also at the ready. So, this was it. The battle was upon them at last.

Now, if only Shizuru would regain any semblance of control before the blood started flying in fine sprays and moist arcs.

But before Shizuru could even give a nod of assent, she paused and felt a stir, a change in the air. Her suspicions were confirmed when a startled curse came from one of her Artemisian companions, probably Midori due to the fact that the curse was rather vulgar.

A young boy stood in their midst. A boy with pink eyes and grey hair and skin pale as marble. Mai snapped into action as soon as the boy appeared, gun in her hand, pointed directly at the intruder, "Who are you? she demanded firmly, Answer me!"

But the boy did not even give her the barest glance. A smile was fixed upon his cold face. Shizuru knew that smile...

"Countess," he greeted her, bowing mockingly, "I bear a message from the Revenant."

Shizuru froze.

"What is he talking about?" Midori asked, "Viola!"

But Shizuru's attention never left the boy.

"We have your beloved Hespera," his smile grew at the dawning horror upon her face, "You have fifteen minutes. Then she dies."

And then he was gone.

"What the -?" Chie muttered.

Midori rounded upon Shizuru, "Viola! What the hell is all this about?"

But Shizuru was beyond their reach now.

The Countess breathed deeply, filling her lungs. Her body shook, slight tremors that increased in intensity with every passing moment. A low whine was emitted, threading through the air like that of a keening animal. Her lips pulled back of reveal teeth like those of a hound, long and almost jagged in appearance. The whine dissolve into a rumbling snarl that rose from deep within her throat, almost as though rumbling forward from the cavernous ground. Shadows gathered, coalescing around her body in writhing shapes like the frantic, frenzied dance of women in god-possessed throes, howling to the mountainous Cithaeron. Her eyes burned brighter, shining like blazing pyres bearing the horse lords of Troy cut down in battle by the man killer, the lion-hearted son of Peleus, flashing through the god-stricken night.

The darkness seeped from her, sweeping, swift, across the valley, roiling like thick black smoke, acrid, winding like ebon serpents binding the luckless Laocoon and his sons and swallowing them alive. All it touched were cast into a pit three times as deep as heaven is high, caught in the miasmic cloud, writhing and shrieking to the skies. The Countess became a formless thing, a misshapen mass, the edges of which fluttered like bats wings, swarming all around. Two shapes rent the space above her shoulder blades like wings dragging smoke and sulphur, cascading sparks in broad arcs. With one mighty sweep, she was borne aloft and streaked over the horizon.

A silence fell behind her. The two armies rose from where they had fallen to their knees, and their eyes brimmed with a hellish light, shining like a myriad of candles through the dark.

And, wordless, soundless, they descended upon one another in the night like packs of rabid wolves.

* * *

**Hope y'all liked it!**

**-Kore**


	46. Chapter 46

**Wow. This fic. It's huge. When did it get so HUGE?**

** Again, I apologise for the wait. I've moved to Europe for school. Classes are starting. Routines are being established. That sort of thing. And I've also found myself far more inspired to write other things, alas. It certainly doesn't help that I've basically become obsessed with SwanQueen and OUAT. Lana Parrilla as Regina Mills makes me die of the flail every time she sweeps onto screen. And then there's the fact that (admittedly) I've grown tired of this fic. But I shall shlog on for you, my beloved readers. And because I was threatened by my Significant Other that if I don't finish this fic then I will suffer a fate worse than death. Ergo, in order to stave off an early demise, I have returned to this fic once more. Almost finished. So cloooooose.**

** Also: I've updated my profile to include my deviantart and tumblr pages. If you'd like to see all the random things I upload and post (mostly artwork and fangirling nonsense) feel free. **

** Enjoy!**

** Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine. **

* * *

When Nao awoke, it was to the throbbing pain in her head of what appeared to be the worst hangover she had ever experienced. And Nao had suffered through her fair share of hangovers strong enough to put Dionysus out of commission for a day. She groaned and immediately regretted it. The vibrations from the noise only reminded her that she owned a stomach, a stomach that was rather upset, truth be told. Trying to roll over, she found that she was unable to move more than a few centimetres. Her wrists and ankles were bound by something cool and heavy-iron manacles, perhaps. That, though, was not her most pressing concern at the moment. Nao's torso twisted and arched, and her teeth clenched. She swallowed in an attempt to stem the rising in her gorge, but no sooner had she done so then she turned her head to one side and emptied her stomach. Long moments passed before her heaving ceased, and, gasping for breath, she felt warm slick liquid sticking to her cheek and neck, dampening her short hair, all awry, when normally there was hardly a follicle out of place.

Groggily she opened her eyes. Yellowish bile spread before her, a thin pool dripping off the side of a wide stone altar, upon which she had been tethered. The smell only reminded her of the equally foul taste in her mouth.

"Well, that's fucking disgusting," she mumbled to herself, turning her head and grimacing as she felt cooling bile run down the side of her neck to her shoulder

Above her the sky was punctured by the gaping chasm of a splintered cathedral ceiling. Clouds drifted before the moon, wispy, so that it appeared as though the moon were a pale spirit hiding from the gaze of spurned lovers, a haunted Dido fleeing after her beloved Sychaeus between asphodel branches. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but Jove's swift fires did not light the sky with their forked prongs. Looking around, she found herself upon a stone altar, perched upon a low dais. Chains bound her in place by her wrist and ankles, made of a bronze dark and pitted with age.

Something moved to her right. Her head snapped towards it, and when she saw what it was her eyes narrowed, "_You..._" she hissed.

"You're awake," Takeda lowered the hood of his long robes, revealing his grim face, the scars over his cheek almost satiny in appearance in the dim flickering light of candles stationed all throughout the cathedral, their bases cemented into place by pools of melted wax, "Good. The Revenant will be pleased."

"You traitorous bastard!" she spat back at him, jerking on her chains.

But takeda was unfazed. He folded his hands together within the wide sleeves his red robes, calm, "Traitor, you call me? Yet I was a Novice of the Revenant long before I was an Artemisian. I am no traitor."

Naos' eyes burned into his, though his dark gaze remained steadfast, "I trusted you!"

"Much to your detriment," came his cool reply.

Furious, she made as though to lunge at him, but only managed to pull uselessly at her bonds. Instead she glared at him from where she lay, her stare piercing as awls.

"Shh..." he made a calming gesture as though speaking to a spooked horse, "The sacrifice musn't be too sullied."

_Sacrifice...?_

Horror and realisation fell across her features then.

"Yes," he murmured, "and now you begin to understand." A fervent light seemed to animate him, making his black eyes sparkle, his expression one of absolute zealotry, "You are just a pawn, Agent Zhang, nothing more. And now the Revenant's plan will at last come to fruition. I should be thanking you. For your service. Without you, this momentous occasion would never have been possible."

"Fuck you," she spat.

"Unfortunately that would desecrate the sacrifice."

Noises, voices from the far end of the cathedral brought their interaction to a close. Nao looked around, craning her neck to see who had entered, and she grimaced when the now cold bile beside her continued to travel down, seeping into the cloth of her collared shirt. Two women entered. One she immediately recognised as Natsuki-that dark hair and flashing green gaze was unmistakable-but the other was a complete mystery. She was not particularly tall. Nor was she particularly old. Her hair was oddly cut, short and rakish, a dark turquoise in colour a dye that served to simultaneously separate her from the crowd and blend her into the inseverable masses. Pretty, if rather plain, nothing remotely set her apart from any other woman in her late 20s, but for one exception. She held herself with a sort of self assurance generally unknown to those of her age group. She had a presence. It still the air around her, made it grow stiff and gelid as the fingers of a corpse. Something about her reeked of hostility, a sort of arachnid machination that bled into the atmosphere like dark ink, shifting when she moved, inimical, a Medean grace, foreign and brutal as those dead grey eyes.

Nao felt her body tense as soon as she laid eyes upon the woman. There lingered about her person a tangible _wrongness_, acidic in flavour, lethal as a draught laced with arsenic and with a similarly poisonous tang. Nao want to recoil, draw away, wary as a herd animal when a lion stalked through the tawny grasses.

This must be the Revenant Takeda seemed to infatuated with. Upon glancing back at her former partner, Nao ascertained that she was indeed correct; Takeda's face was frozen in an expression of utter awe, a close kin of terror.

Natsuki gave a yell, hurling a grunted insult at the woman as she was dragged into the cathedral by shambling corpses, their strong hands clamped upon her arms and waist, even as their flesh hung in desiccated strips, bones crushed and crumbling.

Great. Zombies. Could her life get any worse? Nao thought she had seen it all with vampires running amuck, but _this_?

As natski struggled in vain, the Revenant tsked, drawing near. Too near. The girl drew back, jerking away as the Revenant reached up to run a hand through her curtain of black hair, "It doesn't have to be like this, Hespera," her voice carried clear and resonant through the cathedral's decrepit stone walls, "Fighting me will only prolong the inevitable."

"Don't touch me!"

A deep throaty chuckle escaped the Revenant, "You don't like my touch? Am I not as beautiful as your beloved Shizuru? Hmm?"

A wordless growl was Natsuki's only response, which only made the Revenant laugh, a chilling sound.

Just then, an unholy wind flooded the place, and it carried with it a shroud of darkness like a swirling miasmic abyss. The stone foundations groaned, seizing at whatever unspeakable evil approached. Nao felt her breath catch in spite of herself. She had seen and endured more horrors in her line of work than she cared to discuss, yet some primal part of her still felt the urge to flee, a lash at the flanks of a wild horse with rolling white eyes, nostrils wide and quivering in fear, specked with foam. The shadows thickened to a cyclonic globe laced with Stygian rot, the fetid stench of death suffusing the air in waves, the kind of smell that lingered beneath a butcher's nails. And from the middle of the ink-dark sea stepped a thing of nightmares, a woman whose beauty had twisted to bane and merged with the monstrous, a mindless shape from the plains of below, burnt black, her mouth a shrieking chasm of fangs, her breath an ashen wind, her gaze crimson and sightless, shoulders hunched and misshapen, from which six scythes like featherless wings were drawn, hands and feet great taloned curves matted with dripping gore that ate the stone it touched in hissing strokes like rancid flame. Cloth hung about her form in tattered shreds, once regal robes reduced to rags. As her eyes swung about, a wheeling glance, weighty as a mortal blow, the undead masses that held Natsuki shrank and quailed, hiding their faces behind skeletal hands and sinking to their bony knees, clawing their wiry drapes of hair from powdery scalps; had they been able to emit noise, they would have wailed in dissonant terror as they sank back beneath the earth.

"I always knew you had an inclination to the theatrical, Shizuru, but _really_..." the Revenant sighed, looking exceptionally bored.

A thousand-throated cry tore from the creature's mouth, ripping through the air and whipping it to torrential heights.

Tomoe arched a cool brow, "Are you quite finished with your little temper tantrum?"

But the thing that was Shizuru Viola only lunged forward, a wicked strike swift and deadly as a serpent's.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" the Revenant snapped. With an irritated wave of her hand, she sent Shizuru flying back, slamming into a pillar with enough force to make the column shake and crack, a dangerously wide rent splintering to its capital, clutched by stone gargoyles. There she thrashed against invisible bones, snapping her jaws and flailing her head, gouts of acrid smoke and flame emitting from her throat and nostrils, even as her clawed feet dug into the rock beneath her, tearing large shards from it.

Tomoe scowled brows furrowed in vexation, her mouth turned down, "What on earth is _wrong_ with you?" she huffed. In the background, Natsuki made as though to scoot into a better striking position, but without even looking Tomoe snapped at her, "Don't even think about it!" and the girl stood stock still as though rooted in place.

Without the slightest hint of fear, the Revenant strode up to Shizuru's thrashing body and snatched her chin with one hand, fingers digging into the Countess' sunken cheeks, "Look at me," she commanded, and when Shizuru's gaze continued to wildly roll, her voice lowered to a deadly hiss, "_Look at me!_"

The Countess stilled, blazing scarlet eyes fixing upon Tomoe's. Though her body was still, there remained a sense of motion, of unbridled furor quivering beneath the surface, a maenadic rage that howled a shivering lament to the mountainous Cithaeron. Darkness continued to roil around her, living shadows that leapt and moaned in a fervent dance of Aonian revelation. Tomoe held her gaze, unflinching, "Somone's gotten to you," she muttered, eyes narrowing in suspicion, "Some god has loosened your control over the Keres' power." Her expression turned to one of disgust, "no wonder you're acting like an animal. But no matter," she loosened her hold on Shizuru and instead stroked her cheek with the backs of her fingers in a suddenly intimate gesture, "This will only make things easier.

"Takeda," she said, not looking around, eyes lazily continuing to drift along Shizuru's features, following the wake of her fingers, "is the sacrifice ready?"

Nao froze, feeling her blood run cold.

Takeda bowed and answered, "Of course, Revenant."

"Excellent," Tomoe's voice lowered to a pleased purr, and then she leaned in and whispered something in Shizuru's ear. The Countess stiffened, and when Tomoe pulled away, Shizuru's burning gaze swung to where Natsuki stood, fixing upon her, fierce and hungry.

Apprehension dawned upon Natsuki's features, "What did you do to her?" she demanded.

But Tomoe only chuckled and walked towards the altar, peering coquettishly over her shoulder to reply, "You might consider defending yourself, Hespera. Something tells me your dearest Countess won't be pulling any punches, so to speak."

And suddenly it were as though a great weight had been lifted; Natsuki could move again. She lifted her feet, just to make sure that she could, before she realised she had far more pressing concerns. Whatever had been binding Shizuru to the pillar had vanished as well, and the Countess fell to the floor, free from restraint. Natsuki felt a shiver of fear run through her as Shizuru looked up from where she crouched on all fours like a beast with massive malformed haunches, fangs clenched and bared until she quivered there with a primal energy.

"Shizuru...?" Natsuki took a slow step back, unable to tear her eyes away from that hollowed, distant gaze.

Seeing the retreat, the Countess moved forward in a languid, slinking prowl, rising to crouch so that her metallic hands scraped along the ground.

"Shizuru, it's me," Natsuki had only just raised her hands in a calming gesture, when Shizuru moved.

The Countess darted forward like an arrow, shadows sweeping out behind her in a great billowing cloak. Ducking, Natsuki managed to narrowly avoid the attack, only to weave as another was aimed at her midsection. Swipe after swipe she dodged, scrambling backwards in a frantic attempt to gain space, some sort of ground upon which she could do more than retreat. Diving to the side, she rolled to a crouch behind a section of colonnade flanking the cathedral, momentarily shielded. But no sooner had she begun to rise than a hand plunged through the wall, wrapping around her, claws sinking into her opposite shoulder. Natsuki bit back a cry. And then the arm was lifting her up, stone cracking and cascading around them like hailstones, before she was wrenched through the wall and swung overhead to be slammed into the ground. A ripple shot through the stone, cascading outwards, creating a wide dent in the floor.

For a moment, Natsuki was too stunned to do anything but blink up at the dark ceiling. The Countess loomed above her, preparing to bring her talons down in a flashing strike, and time pulled to a slow crawl. Something froze in Natsuki, a familiar ice clutching in her chest. Except this time, it rose so swiftly she did not even have the time to try to oppose it. There was an urgency to it, an immediacy she could not fight. The blinding fury erupted within her, bursting forward in a wave of whirling light. At the blast Shizuru went flying back, recoiling from the white light and hissing. Hespera glared out from Natsuki's eyes, cold and green as distant pastures, her face an iron mask, pure and emotionless as the glaucopis maiden at war, righteous and terrible as the dawn. The earth shook, moaning to the skies. Debris fell from the ceiling of the cathedral. Fissures snaked out from the church's foundations into the surrounding countryside, blistering the land.

The Revenant took the ceremonial bronze blade from Takeda, who was bowed before her, and she smiled, "This be my Carnival," she ran her fingers along the edge, then looked down to her victim, Nao, squirming upon the altar, tugging at her restraints, "This the hour of my Awakening."

With a shrieking cry, the bladed wings upon the Keres' back sprang to life, swinging out, cutting sideways. Calm, Hespera launched herself into the air, easily avoiding the blow, and with a twist of her hands strokes of light like chains whipped from her hands, spinning through the air to coil themselves around the Keres' torso. She swung the Keres around, bringing her crashing into a thick pillar, which caved beneath the weight of the blow. No sooner had the stones crumbled atop her, though, than the Keres sent them flying in all direction in a burst of dark energy. The chains flew from Hespera's hands again, impaling the Countess upon all that remained of the pillar-naught more than a stump amidst a pile of rubble-and she wrenched herself forward, rushing through the air, breaching the space between them in a blink. Her fists burst out, one after the other in great pummelling clouts, fast and hard, and the Keres' body snapped back with every strike, grinding the stone beneath her to dusty shreds.

In a wild lurch, the Countess flung her talons out at her enemy's torso, but Hespera smoothly moved around the attack, slipping seamlessly into place behind the Keres, using her own momentum against her. With one pale hand, Hespera kept the Keres' head in place, while her other reached over, fingers digging into that fanged mouth, gripping tight, and she slowly began to pull them apart. The Countess thrashed furiously, screeching wordless invectives to the winds that howled around them in their mighty struggle. Calm and composed, Hespera maintained the pressure, feeling the bones and tendons snap in her adamantine grasp. Not even a flicker of pain nor fury acknowledged the fact that those blackly bladed wings snapped out and dug into her thigh, her shoulder, her gut, the wounds dripping a silvery ichor down her ivory skin. She ignored them and continued to pull until, with a wrenching crack, the Keres' head split in her hands.

All the while, at the altar, the Revenant performed her dread task, taking knife to Nao's hand, severing it at the wrist. Nao's screams were drowned by the tempestuous cacophony of shrieks that resounded from the Keres.

Chthonic shadows shuddered and swirled. A darkness bubbled from the mortal case that housed the Keres, babbling and mindless. Tranquil as an undisturbed pool amidst the glades and vales, Hespera tossed the top half of the Countess' head aside. The Keres' body flopped to the ground, twitching, dark shades like pestilential clouds rupturing forth, spreading death and disease and internal madness. Stepping forward, Hespera laid her hands upon the boiling, churning mass. A fire, white and lucid, lit beneath her palms to scorch the living darkness. Putrid smoke belched up from the writhing, twisted thing, slowing its inevitable recovery-sticky strands of it still striving to creep out and regain lost parts of itself, to piece itself back to restoration.

So engrossed in their battle were the two, they did not notice the triumphant train of laughter from the altar, high and maniacal, as something in the very fabric of reality was split, rent like twined sutures.

The Revenant's face was the picture of exultation as the eager knife clattered to the floor from her fingertips, and she stepped into the astral gateway, leaving behind her Novice kneeling at the altar which held the Artemisian Operative, whose skin was ashen and greying from bloodloss. And in a staggering glare of radiance, the Revenant had stepped through into the Black Garden, the Garden that had risen from the ashes.

* * *

**Until next time, folks!**

**-Kore**


	47. Chapter 47

**This is it, my friends. The penultimate chapter. After this, there's just one more. And then we're done.**

**THE END IS NIGH. **

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine**

* * *

The battlefield had dissolved into a bloodbath.

Midori waded through the blood-dimmed tide, seeing dark shapes through the red. Everything was a scarlet haze, wine-deep, as though the world had slipped into a crimson bath, drowning in it, thrashing wildly. She stumbled upon a fallen body. She did not know if it was her own man, or a fallen member of her enemy's forces. She found she could not bring herself to look, or even to care.

The empty gun slipped from her fingers. Its barrel had twisted, malformed, and she did not remember how that had happened. She dimly recalled raising her hand and bringing it down, again, again, to spatter the bloody pulp that used to be a person trapped beneath her thighs, where she had crouched on the ground. Her pants and the flank of her shirt were stiff and dark with clotted gore. Some indiscernible matter clung to her boots. Smears of oil dust - vampiric remains - streaked her cheeks, her one forearm and hand. Tongue sluggish, mind drenched in befuddling waves, Midori could not form coherent thoughts, could not form her voice into words, bereft of breath and spirit.

As she forged onward, going she knew not where, figures rushed by, faceless, accompanied by animal snarls.  
But wait. She knew that figure, didn't she? Something familiar about the armour-clad body, breastplate and greaves torn away to reveal short orange hair. Midori could not put a name to that face, nor to the woman's attacker: a man tall and gaunt with eyes black as the midnight sea and just as stormy. For but a split moment she watched as they leapt at one another, grappling and growling, a flurry of flashing fangs and gunshots, before her attention was occupied elsewhere.

Something flew at her from the right, winging from the air, thick with shrieks and battlecries, in a flurry of black and gold. Midori narrowly dodged the assault, reflexes instinctual, mind and body apart from herself, as though in transports of possession. She wheeled about to face her opponent and saw a woman. A woman with two halves, like looking down the edge of a coin, one side new and bride, hair spun of rich gold, eye a verdant glare, the other maligned and scarred, cheek raw and gristly revealing the clenched teeth beneath, locks a dusty gray of the grave, and a single point of red burning bright from the ledge of a shadowed brow. Midori knew this face too. From somewhere. And she felt her lip curl in automatic enmity.

Caught up in the blood-lust, in the overwhelming thrill of battle as she was, Midori's eyes quickly darted across the ground, searching for a weapon. Though the thought of simply sinking her teeth into her opponent was also quite appealing.

Had she been in a right state of mind, she would have felt disgusted with herself. As it was, the thought of ripping out Maria Graceburt's throat with her teeth was starting to make her salivate.

There. She saw a blade not far off. An Artemisian weapon, lightweight, deadly, the edge lined with superheated plates, so that with one swing it could easily sever flesh, muscle, bone.

Maria rushed forward and Midori dove to the side, and as she rolled over her shoulder, her fingers wrapped around the handle of the blade. Swinging up easily from the roll, she had the short sword firmly in her grasp, held at the ready. She looked for Maria, but could only see those dim shadowy shapes in the haze, distant and throbbing, like a rapid heartbeat. At a tingle tickling her neck, though, Midori ducked, turning to slash as she did so. An angry hiss met her actions as she nicked Maria's thigh with the blade. The two surveyed one another from across a small distance; it could not have been more than two strides, a space able to be quickly crossed. The air between them boiled. Midori could feel the surface of her skin vibrate with the anticipation of the kill.

It was Maria again who made the first move. The electric hunger, the promise of bloodshed sparked her gaze as well - Midori could see it, clear as day. It made them both rash, hurried, eager for the fight, when normally they would have prefered to kill one another from afar. When they fought, moving together, it was less a dance and more a clashing brawl, two drunkards wailing on one another with all the brute force they could muster. Midori hacked, swinging wildly with her short sword, while Maria cleaved with her sharp claws, fangs flashing. Feral grunts and gasps punctuated their rough movements, all finesse forgotten in the wake of this bestial fervour, this scorching furor.

Midori thought she had won, when one of Maria's arms went sailing through the air, dissolving to ash before it hit the earth. She exulted as Maria let loose a horrific screech, clutching at where her limb used to be - she understood the loss; she could almost feel her own missing arm as though it were still present. It was brashness, then, that drove her to step forward, to press the attack when she should have waited, should have gathered her bearings.

And in a furious burst of speed, Maria plunged her remaining arm forward, hand clenching in Midori's abdomen with a sickening squelch. The air rushed from Midori's lungs as though she had been slammed into a concrete wall.

Maria crowed her victory, hand still clenched in Midori's gut, bringing them close together to vaunt while her much hated enemy was swallowed in the demise of her own triumphant construction, "I've killed you, Artemis!" she bared her fanged teeth in a horrific smile, "Who now will lead your pitiful company in their fruitless hunt?"

But Midori laughed, the noise coughing gouts of blood from her foaming lips, grimacing past the pain, "Mine is but a name. there will always be a Hunt. And another...Another..."

With a last spurt of strength, she flung her arm out in a hacking strike and cut off Maria's head. Maria's body erupted into a scatter of ash, oil-slick and grey, and Midori slumped to the ground, feeling the life flow from her wound.

* * *

Nao lay upon the altar, eyes clouded. The bronze manacle upon her left wrist slipped from the blood-slick stump and clattered upon stone. Her breaths came in laboured gasps, warm gusts to fight the cold pressing in all around her, constricting her chest. her head lolled to the side, cheek resting upon the cool marble beneath her. Groggily she peered from half-closed lids as though peaking through curtains.

Most of the cathedral had been reduced to rubble. Tremours shook the earth, threatening to topple the few walls and gnawed pillars that remained. Two figures warred in the centre of the ruin, locked in their violent struggle, equally matched and deathless. Nao vaguely knew who they were, these two deities trapped in mortal form, one a shining star burning cold, the other an amorphous shadow, wreathed in sulphrous smoke. She watched as they exchanged blows swift as lightning, flickered across the space in movements that rippled and spun in a morbid dance to the beat of distant drums.

Nao watched with a glassy gaze, expression grey and blank. She felt a giggle laced with hysteria bubble up into her mouth as the glacial weight increased in her chest, clutching her slow-beating heart. She bit her lip to stem the sound. It took a great effort to turn her head to the other side, where she saw Takeda's lowered head, still kneeling at the altar, caught up in the self-inflicted rapture of recent events.

Unwillingly a snarl stole across her features; looking upon him made her stomach physically lurch. How many years had they spent together as partners, working for the Cynthian Company? They had grown close. Dare she say they had become friends? The thought made her want to empty her stomach again. How could she have not seen it? Somehow, she thought, somehow she should have known. She should have sensed it. Tracking down swine like him was part of her job. Were her instincts really that terrible? Or was Takeda just that adept at hiding his true nature? Some part of her hoped for the latter, but she knew it was a combination of the two.

Some part of her thought therefore that she deserved this, that this was just recompense for her failure. She tried to push that thought aside, but failed.

She was slipping. She could feel it, the cool rise in her limbs, collecting at her toes and fingertips, pooling in her throat, at the base of her tongue. but looking down at Takeda, she felt the heat of anger also, battling against the tides of frore. She couldn't go. Not yet. Not quite yet.

It took all her strength to lift her left arm and swing it over to where her right hand lay shackled to the altar. Droplets of blood ran an uneven spattering trail across her chest. When he had knocked her out back in Parliament, Takeda had removed her weapons - from the guns to the knives to the coil-thin fibres she wielded with such deadly accuracy.

But he had missed one.

One strand was still wound around her left forearm - not enough to do battle with, but enough to strike a surprise blow; it was something she kept in reserve, in case of emergencies. And if _this_ didn't constitute as an emergency, she didn't know what did.

Now that one arm was free, she was able to clumsily extract it, fingers slipping over the bloodied stump. The strand sprang free, winking lethally in the dim light.

Running a tongue over her chapped and shaky lips, Nao rasped, "Takeda."

He looked up.

He did not even have the time to look surprised as her fingers twitched and the spider-like strand flickered out, swiping across his throat. he clutched at the sudden red trickle down his throat and, gurgling, fell forward.

"Serves you right, you son of a bitch," she mumbled, head falling back, limbs going limp, a rag-doll, a lamb strewn upon the altar, and in the background the battle raged.

* * *

The first thing the woman, who called herself Tomoe in this lifetime, noticed was the smell. The smell of rich earth, of pure, black loam, rain-fresh. it infused her, unfurling its soft tendrils like incense rising up from fat-smeared altars. When she opened her eyes, she was greeted by the welcome sight of plains stretching before her, fields cast in the saffron and lilac glow of an eternal sunset. To her left a great tree sprawled with a trunk mighty and thick, roots deep and broad as its spreading limbs above, bearing a canopy of many-coloured leaves as though trapped in perpetual autumn, casting a wide pool of languid shadow in its wake. Golden globes of fruit gleamed from where they nestled among the boughs.

Smug triumph flooded the Revenant's features, staining her dull, lifeless eyes with a metallic glint like iron. She strode forward, footsteps sinking into layers of verdant moss. As she approached, a serpentine figure slithered into view, winding down the trunk. Its scales shone blackly, dark and lustrous as the flowers that dotted the tree's base with an almost satiny gloss, but its eyes burned gold, aureate as the fruit it guarded. A growling hiss rumbled from its squarish, horse-like head, and it lifted its strong jaws in a threatening stance, revealing its pearly white throat.

The Revenant merely sneered at it, never faltering in her approach. With a contemptuous wave of her hand, she sent it into a spiral of shrieks, paroxysms seizing its sinewy body as it thrashed, scales scraping at paper-fine bark, which drifted through the air in downy shreds. While normally she would have paused to enjoy its suffering, to drink it in like a heady draught, now she barely spared it a whispered, "_Vermin_," before she was moving on, too greedy for her long-sought prize.

Beneath the nearest bough, she halted, lifting her gaze to the fruit that hung there. Reaching up, she grasped, twisted, pulled. For but a moment, the limb bent with the downward strain, before snapping back into place and swaying softly. Mouth suddenly dry, she stared at the fruit clenched between her fingers, hardly daring to breathe, and then she was raising it to her mouth, teeth piercing into the golden flesh. Her eyes slipped shut, expecting a rush of power, a thrill of _numen_, a swirling vortex of divinity.

But none came.

"Congratulations."

The Revenant whirled about at the cold voice behind her, to find herself face to face with a woman, a woman with eyes that seared a scalding black, great tempests of darkness streaked through with starlight, and skin pale as a shade and of a similarly ghostly complexion. The woman was flanked by four others: one that loomed, clutching a wickedly curved scythe, one that spun a glowing thread, one that measured, one that cut.

"Who are you?" the Revenant spat, filled with fury, "What have you done to the fruit? Why is it not working?"

The woman's expression did not shift, remaining passive and brooding, enigmatic as ever, "In the beginning there was darkness, and the darkness was me, and I was the darkness, and from the darkness I brought forth that most insurmountable of things: life. I neither live, nor die. I am the brightest light in all places and the abyssal shadows between. I am the Earth, the Sky, the Sun, the Moon, Time and Timelessness, Space and Matter. All Energy is beget of me, nothing does not know me, and everything knows me not. I am the Day. I am Night.

But you may call me Mother."

Snarling at the mystifying answer, overcome with rage that her plans, her schemes had all been for naught, the Revenant lashed out to fling the woman back. But nothing happened. Shock assailed her then, and she gaped at her hand, dumbfounded.

"What...?" she breathed.

Night smiled chillingly at her, and the Revenant felt the unfamiliar flash of terror rip through her gut.

"Congratulations. You are a god now," Night said, that smile never touching her cold eyes, "And now you must play by the rules. _My rules._"

The Revenant made as if to stumble back, but Night's hand was suddenly gripping her throat, lifting her up into the air, "Come, my unfortunate child. Together in Tartarus we shall be, to live, to fall, to die for eternity."

And the earth beneath them did open up in a gnashing chasm of screaming Sisyphean souls, and swallowed them whole.

* * *

**Until next time, folks!**

** -Kore**


	48. Chapter 48

**This is it, my friends. The end. And I must say: it has been a pleasure. Thank you for sticking around with me this far.**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.**

* * *

There stood a girl upon a hill. Her form was clearly outlined by the dawn, flossy rays of liquid gold streaming around her in broken sheets, trickling waterfalls from Cretan shores. Clothes hung in tatters about her mortal frame, hair in ragged disarray, a mix of sweat and something darker. She bore an expression of vacant surprise, as though she had awoken to this mound of bodies beneath her feet, unsure of exactly how they arrived there. Her foot slipped upon a mangled limb. She staggered, arms wheeling, struggling to once again find purchase upon the uneven terrain.

Someone caught her, "Woah there!" murmured the soft voice, "Careful now."

When she turned, dazed, she beheld a face she did not recognise. A woman stabilized her by the shoulders, gloved hands gentle. She wore a suit of dark, sleek armour, and embroidered upon the synthetic material just above the left breast was a blue rose.

Shiho jerked away from the stranger's touch, arms raised protectively before her, "Who are you?" she demanded in a tremulous tone, "Where am I?"

The woman made a calming gesture with her hands, honest gaze meeting her own, "My name is Chie Hallard. We are in southern Austria. You are Shiho Munakata, yes?"

"I…" Shiho's arms wrapped around her midriff and she looked all about her, face cast down, "I don't know."

Chie's face screwed up, puzzled. A band of blue glass that had once wrapped across her head, lit up with lines and numbers, had been shattered on one side, shards embedding in her cheek. Gore matted her forehead, tangling her short hair. In her own mouth, Shiho could taste the distinct tang of iron. Looking down, she saw the remnants of her dress had been smeared with something black and clotted, a bloody ruin. Her chest began to heave in raw panic.

The battlefield was a writhing flank of red land. Figures began to rise with weak moans, battered, bruised, and maimed. Souls bore their bodies like injured hounds bared teeth, dragging themselves into corners to lie and lick their severed stumps, their weeping wounds. Sunlight made more garish their many open sores, painting the landscape a lurid clash of hues.

"It's alright. I got you," Chie's said, soft and soothing, as Shiho began to gasp for air, body shaking.

"Chie!" came a voice from not too far away.

Twisting her neck, Chie saw Aoi marching towards them. Apart from a noticeable limp in her left leg and deep cuts raked across her cheek, she was relatively unscathed. At least in comparison to the carnage suffered by others.

"Oh, thank God," Chie muttered, feeling a wave of relief rush through her at finding her friend alive, "Have you seen Midori? Or Mai? I can't seem to find them anywhere."

But Aoi looked grim. She shook her head, heaving a sigh, "Dead. Both of them. I had to find you. Make sure you were still alive to –" she hesitated, watching as the information visibly sank into Chie, "What are your orders, Artemis?"

Licking her lips, Chie felt her nerves flutter. _Artemis_. That title was never supposed to be hers. Mai was supposed to rise to that position. Mai had been the one groomed for the job – the headstrong Officer everyone loved. Chie was just the one who sat in the background, watching from the shadows, delegating, organising. She was no leader.

Yet how could she turn Aoi and the Cynthian Company away now, when they needed leadership most?

Perhaps a bit of delegation and re-organisation was exactly what they all needed.

Breathing in deeply, Chie's gaze grew steely, "Gather everyone," she began to Aoi, not taking one of her hands from Shiho's narrow shoulder, "and contact Dr. Sagisawa. Tell her to be ready for her little hospital to be filled and then some."

"Everyone?" Aoi frowned, "but…the vampires…"

But Chie would hear nothing of it, "Look around you," she hissed, leaning in, sweeping one arm towards the battlefield, "Something happened. Nothing is the same. Vampires? There are no more vampires."

Aoi fell silent, staring not at the battlefield but at Shiho. The girl was trembling. And her eyes, her eyes were a brown so pale as to appear amber; gone were the tell-tale signs of red like pits of hell, burning hard and bright through shadow. Another time Aoi would have demanded to see the girl's teeth, to prove that any last vestiges of demonic presence had truly fled, but instead she gathered herself and saluted sharply to Chie, "Is there anything else you require of me, Artemis?"

Chie took Shiho by the hand and began leading her away. She did not look back when she replied, "Gather the dead for proper burial after the wounded have been shipped out. Speak with our contacts in the British Isles; I want as many medical supplies as can be spared sent to Dr. Sagisawa. She's going to need them. Clear up this mess with the Austrian government; they may have unwillingly agreed to avert their eyes to this battle, but a few more favours are going to need to be called in to clean this up. And I want reports. All of Midori's Agent reports over the last month. Get me the location of every Agent on the planet. Within the hour. I will review the information on the flight to Parliament." Her gaze hardened and she muttered to herself, "I will have answers to this riddle."

* * *

Natsuki awoke to a blinding white light. Grass, bright and verdant, bristled beneath her, pricking her skin. She pushed herself to an upright position and looked down. She wore not a stitch of clothing, but somehow it did not matter in this place. The sky faded into the earth in this place, so that the horizon was a distant haze, blended and smudged by young, sticky fingers. Wind did not exist here. Nor air. Breathing was not a necessity.

Shakily Natsuki rose to her feet. A comfortable warmth settled upon her limbs, emanating from the very land.

_Where –?_

"No place," came a voice from behind her.

Natsuki spun, startled but not frightened. A woman stood behind her. No. That wasn't right. She did not stand. She hovered. Her feet, stained with something black and dripping, were suspended above the ground, toes pointed downward. She bled darkness, the filmy material of her elegant robes gossamer waves like liquid smoke that fluttered and railed, whispering with a voice like twilight, her gaze like dusk.

Natsuki found her voice and asked warily, "Have we –?"

"Met?" the woman smiled toothlessly, and Natsuki felt something akin to a chill shoot through her, more a warning shudder. This was not someone to anger, "Yes. Though, when last we met, you were confronted with my mere vessel."

And then Natsuki remembered. A girl with graying hair, her frail body seated upon a wheelchair, "Mashiro?"

"My vessel's name. I am Nyx. Night. But you may call me Mother."

She used "may," but it was not in the form of a request.

The unbearable urge to look away washed over Natsuki, so she glanced downward. Beneath Night's feet gaped a dizzying void, spinning with stars and all manner of heavenly bodies. That glistening black dripped from the arch of Night's feet and the puddle rippled and grew.

"Do not avert your gaze, my child."

At this Natsuki wrenched her eyes up, meeting Night's all encompassing, unblinking stare, "Forgive me, Mother, for my insolence, but why are we here? And where is _here_?"

"This is no place."

"Am I –?"

"Dead?" Night finished Natsuki's sentence, "No. I'm afraid not. You have a long life ahead of you. Though immortality is no longer at your disposal. Hespera and all her kin have been returned to their rightful places."

A brief thought flashed through her mind. _The Revenant._ _Tomoe._

Night made no conceivable movement, but Natsuki felt a tension build at the mere thought. The air darkened, "The Revenant is mine now. As a god, she can never plague this world again."

"But…she won," Natsuki frowned, "She got what she wanted."

Night suddenly seemed almost amused at Natsuki's words, though it was difficult to discern the emotions that crossed her timeless face, "She became a god, yes. But she did not win. Immortality is not something to be coveted, my child, just as death is not to be feared. But neither should you squander life. Still, we are not here to discuss such trifling subjects."

Natsuki's quizzical scowl deepened, "Then…why?"

"I am here to congratulate you. Many of my children have failed where you exceeded all expectations," Night continued seamlessly, "And I am here to offer my personal gratitude for fulfilling your purpose. Now I give you life once more, when you should have expired alongside your lover."

At this, Natsuki's head jerked. Wide-eyed, she looked at Night with a pleading expression, "Shizuru…" she breathed, "She's dead?"

"You both battled to the end. Neither survived after the Revenant passed into my care."

Had there been air, Natsuki's breath would have caught, "Then, when I return, she will be dead?"  
"Yes."

"No!" Natsuki was surprised to hear herself claim, voice resounding as though she stood in a cavern.

Night stared at her coolly, "No? The Countess has lived a long life, damned for centuries. Do you believe she would wish to continue to carry out her last years in constant guilt and torment?"

"I…" Natsuki faltered, "There must be some way. She deserves more than that. _I_ deserve more than that."

Suddenly Night seemed sorrowful, "Oh, my poor child. If you think death to be an eternal ill, then you are sadly mistaken. And if you believe that you _deserve_ more than what I have already given you, then perhaps you truly have not learned the real lesson."

That was it. This was the end. Natsuki's jaw tightened. She had no bargaining chips.

"But," Night carried on after a moment's pause, "if I am to do this, the price will extend to all those who survived. Yourself included. Fairness in all things. None shall be exempt from my _price_."

Immediately, Natsuki leapt at the opportunity, "What is this price?" she asked, hopeful.

Night's gaze flashed, and suddenly she was directly before Natsuki, looming like the arching sky, her eyes eclipses, rings of mottled sunlight; she hissed, "_Memory_."

* * *

Chie hung up the phone by tapping the device in her ear. She sat in Midori's old office in Parliament, the broad table stacked high with papers, all accompanied by a screen that blazed with white documents. All reports were received electronically, but hard copies were also stored and then at the end of the year recycled. Still, Chie preferred to give her eyes a rest from the harsh screen every few hours, if only for the sake of her already poor eyesight.

Straightening the square spectacles upon the bridge of her nose, she swiftly scanned the page before flipped to the next. Chie wore her typical button-down, collared, navy shirt, sleeves neatly rolled up past her elbows, a black blazer thrown over the back of her chair, but instead of her customary black tie with an orange sunburst – marking her as a District Officer – she bore a white tie with the gold sunburst worn only by Artemis. It felt strange. She fiddled with the knot at her neck constantly.

The report she read had been written by Nao Zhang. In all the previous reports, Chie had merely skimmed through the print, finding nothing extraordinary – just the usual vampire activity logs and tracking and kill counts. But something here made her pause all of a sudden.

Odd murders had been plotted and investigated by Nao all across Europe. Frowning, Chie flipped open a nearby file that had come with the report and look at the pictures of the various crime scenes. When she arrived at the last photo, she noticed a USB drive taped to the back page of the folder, headed by Zhang's untidy scrawl: _Intel from Nagi – Revenant Informant & Suspect_.

Chie had heard of Nao's bad temper from her colleague and fellow Officer, Mai, but Nao's attention to detail could not be faulted on any account.

Tearing the USB free, she inserted the thumb drive into her computer and opened it. A single video file was contained within it. She double clicked it.

Up popped the bust of a woman in a dark room, and though her face was completely blackened, her eyes shone through the darkness, grey and sickly. A shiver passed through Chie. She felt unclean, as though the woman's gaze held disease and infected all it touched.

"I am the Revenant," she spoke in a voice like a festering wound, "and if you are watching this, then you have already failed…"

Immediately, Chie snatched up her phone, "Aoi," she said, urgent, when the Officer answered after only two rings, "What have we heard from Agent Nao Zhang?"

"Her and her partner's personal trackers have been disabled, but her weapon is still pinging from Lithuania. I sent a team to investigate about 2 hours ago."

There was chatter in the background, people clamouring and milling about.

"Excellent," Chie replied, never looking away from the computer screen, "I want to be updated as soon as possible."

"Roger that. What about Dr. Sagisawa's request?"

"Grant her as much space, as many hands as you can spare. Overcrowd the healthy if you must to optimize space for the wounded." And with that, Chie hung up.

Meanwhile the Revenant droned on, "These ritual murders are nothing in the face of my immortal pursuits, necessary sacrifices willingly delivered for my eternal glory…"

_Oy vey,_ Chie thought to herself, removing her glasses to rub her eyes once more.

Being Artemis was going to take some getting used to.

* * *

Two Cynthian soldiers sat in the belly of a helicopter. The blades of the vehicle cut through the air, bearing them along.

"Do you reckon we'll find anything?" one of them asked.

The other shrugged, "Dunno. Doubt it."

Not to be deterred, the first pressed on, edging forward in his seat. He was young. Remarkably he had escaped the battle completely, one of the few left at Parliament to guard their headquarters. Now, however, with so many dead and maimed, all able-bodies were needed, "What d'you think Agent Zhang was doing up here, anyway?"

The second soldier heaved a deep sigh, "I don't know," he growled tiredly, "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

Their bickering was sharply interrupted by the pilot, "The _hell_ happened here?"

The nose of the helicopter dipped low as they circled. Beneath them the land smoldered, rent with great lesions, fissures smoking, their cavernous beds filled with the glow of dying embers. A cathedral had been stripped down to its foundations, columns toppled, leaving craggy stumps of stone littered with bright shards of coloured glass like fallen starlight among the wreckage.

The older soldier saw out of the corner of his eye the younger make the sign of the cross over his chest. Voice steely, he grunted, "I don't think that's going to be much help here."

But the young soldier was unfazed, for he shot back, "And cynicism is?"

He got no reply.

Dust swirled in the air, rising from the fractured earth in sheets as the helicopter lowered. Upon touching down – nothing more than a soft bump of rails on dirt – the two soldiers leapt to the ground, heads ducked low, weapons clutched to their sides. Together they skirted the perimeter of the cathedral, while the blades of the helicopter behind them continued to whir and blur. They were to be quick and quiet. Get in and get out. Any survivors and bodies of the fallen they found were to be carted away for treatment, interrogation and, if necessary, burial.

"Perimeter clear," the elder officer announced before motioning that they were moving into what was once a semicircular asp.

Picking their way carefully through the ruins, they happened upon a shackled limb: a foot linked at the ankle with a strip of thick bronze. Eyes meeting over the pile of rubble, they nodded and began prying stones from the opposite end of the altar. There they revealed the bruised and battered face of Agent Juliet Nao Zhang. Blood had grown sticky and dark beneath her, most of it from the stump of her arm.

"Jesus…" the younger soldier breathed, while the elder clenched his teeth, muscles bunching at his stubbled jaw and neck.

"Come on," the elder jerked his head, "Let's finish searching the area, then we can take her body back."

Nodding in solemn agreement, the younger soldier stepped back and slipped in a pool of congealed blood peeking out beneath rock. He caught himself before he could fall, "What the –? Hey! There's another one here!"

Quickly they cleared the next body, which was pinned by large sections of a column.

"Is that…?"

"Agent Masashi," the older soldier confirmed, grim.

But before they could do anything more than identify the body, they heard a stirred of loose rock from the center of the crumbled cathedral. With a snap their weapons were raised to their shoulders, and they grew suddenly wary.

From the strewn rubble emerged a ragged form, a girl, her dark hair grimy with dust and soot and something else. She stumbled then fell to her hands and knees.

The two soldiers approached with drawn weapons, their gazes guarded, full of caution, "Hands in the air," the elder barked, "No sudden movements. I said: _hands in the air._"

In a daze her hands rose, fingers shaking. Her clothes were rags, her pale skin smeared with blood and dirt, "Please, she began, voice raspy. She coughed before going on, "Please, there's another. A woman. She's badly injured."

The younger soldier moved forward while the elder kept his weapon pointed at the girl. Confirming her words with a nod, the younger asked, "Who are you?"

"I…" she faltered. She swallowed and shook her head, "I don't know."

* * *

A gentle hand owned by a woman in white was placed on her shoulder, rousing her from a deep slumber. The woman held a blue binder to her chest and looked down kindly.

"Good morning," she greeted softly, "Your name is Shizuru Viola. How are you feeling?"

Shizuru blinked. Her eyes were brown and tinged with russet hues, like the last leaves of autumn, maples brimming with fiery foliage. A strange brown. But they were brown. When she drew a breath, her chest ached, a distant fading pain, "Fine," she said numbly in response.

"Excellent," the woman – a nurse, she realised – smiled, "You've been recovering for about a week, but your recuperation has been remarkable."

A small frown of confusion crossed Shizuru's face, "What happened?"

"You were in an accident, Ms. Viola," came the swift reply, "Now, I'm going to need you to sit up for me. Can you do that?"

Shizuru nodded. Sluggish, she raised herself to her elbows, propping herself into a seated position upon a hospital bed. There were several others crammed into the room, but their inhabitants did not currently occupy them, "Where is everyone?"

The nurse gave only a brief pause, "Most are attending the mass funeral."

"Must have been some accident," Shizuru murmured, surprised at her own blasé dryness.

Rather than be off-put or upset, however, the nurse's mouth quirked in a grin.

"Forgive me," Shizuru began, "I shouldn't have –"

"No, no," the nurse waved the apology away, "A sense of humour is always a welcome sign in a patient's recovery. So you feel well enough to walk?"

Shizuru nodded.

"Good. Then let's get you out of that bed. Lord knows a bit of air will do you some good."

The nurse offered her arm, but Shizuru shook her head. Taking a deep breath, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and shakily rose to her feet, one hand resting upon the bedside table for support. A white gown fell below her knees. Hanging from a nearby peg on the wall was a grey robe, which Shizuru promptly wrapped around herself, slipping her feet into a pair of matching sturdy slippers at the base of her bed.

Finished, she asked, "Where are we headed?"

"I'm just here to check up on you and make sure you don't go falling and hurting yourself. But I see my services in the latter are hardly required," it was not delivered unkindly – quite the opposite, "If you'd like, I can escort you to the gardens? It's nice and sunny out today."

Shizuru nodded her consent, then gestured regally for the nurse to lead the way. Together they walked the dim halls of an underground structure. People milled about. Nurses bustling in white. Other patients looking lost, shuffling to their rooms and beds.

Though she voiced no complaint, Shizuru felt a surge of relief when they reached an elevator; she did not think she could manage to haul herself up flights of steep stairs. Her limbs felt strangely heavy, her body an earthly cage, leaden. When she walked, the soles of her feet slapped against the floor. Nothing felt right. Everything was out of place. She was drowning in a haze.

Perhaps the nameless nurse was right. Perhaps a touch of sunshine would cure her ills, her sense of ill-at-ease.

In the elevator they were joined by another patient, a girl with hair that hung in a tumble of blonde curls, streaked with fading pink dye. The doors of the elevator slid seamlessly shut and with a jerk bore them aloft. Tilting her head, Shizuru regarded the young patient. The girl looked wan, mournful.

"Did you lose someone in the accident?" Shizuru queried without preamble.

Starting, the young girl looked at her with large amber eyes, "No," she stated, followed immediately by, "Yes. I mean – no. I don't know."

At the next floor, which was thronging with people in black – mourning weeds – the girl got off, darting a puzzled look over her shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

"Hmm…" Shizuru hummed wordlessly to herself as the elevator trembled and shot upwards once more.

"Did you recognise that young lady?" the nurse asked gently.

But Shizuru shook her head, "No."

At last the elevator doors opened to a bright atrium, the opposite end a wall of glass leading to a garden. A few patients dotted the greenery, sitting at wooden tables and benches. The moment Shizuru stepped outside, she felt drenched in sunlight. Warmth prickled at her skin not in an unpleasant way. She soaked in the sensation. Before she could even decide whether to sit or stroll, though, her attention was snagged by movement from the shadows of afar.

At the end of the garden, a young woman lay, sprawled at the base of a tree, languishing in the dappled shade. Feet bare, her toes idly swept the verdant grass, while her fingers spun a broad leaf by its stem.

Shizuru's breath caught as though received a physical blow to the gut. Without intending to, she strode forward, steps bearing her closer until she stood in the same shade. The young woman looked up, her eyes a dark and striking green. A black, puzzled brow quirked an unspoken question at Shizuru's sudden appearance.

Finding her voice, Shizuru managed to say, "May I sit with you?"

For a moment the young woman regarded her, silent. Then she gestured to a spot beside her, "Sure. Do I know you?"

Lowering herself to the ground, Shizuru shook her head, "I'm Shizuru," she offered with a small smile.

"Natsuki," the girl replied.

The nurse, standing awkwardly to the side, asked, "Is there anything I can get you before I head off?"

"Yes," Shizuru said without turning, "We'll each have a cup of tea."

* * *

Haruka snorted.

Looking down into a bowl of crystal water, scrying from the dark deep pit of Tartarus, she watched the realm of the living. Idly she twirled the measuring stick between her fingers.

Shaking her head, she muttered derisively, "_Mortals..._"

* * *

FINIS


End file.
